//£? 


Old   Time   Gardens 


THE  MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  BOSTON  CHICAGO 

DALLAS          SAN    FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO..  LIMITED 

LONDON      BOMBAY       CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


OLD  •  TIME  GARDENS 

Wew/y  sef  Jorth 

6y 
ALICE    MOILSE    EAF^LL 


&  B  o  o A   or 
THE  5WELT      O'    THE  YEAK 


"*Life  is  sweet,  brother!  Therms  day  and  night.  Brother.! 
Sotf)  sweef  things:  sun,  moon  and  stars,  Brother  faff 
sweef  things :  There  is  likewise  a  wind  on  the  heath" 


NEW    Y01VK 

THL    MACMILLATS   COMPANY 

LONDON    MAC  MILLAN  CfCO  LTD 

MCMXXII 
'AU  rifih  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,    1901, 
BY    THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  November,  1901. 


Norwood  Press 

J.  5.  Gushing  &  Co.— Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


Contents 


I.  COLONIAL  GARDEN-MAKING    . 

II.  FRONT  DOORYARDS 

III.  VARIED  GARDENS  FAIR  .        '  t 

IV.  Box  EDGINGS          .         .         .     "• •   . ' 
V.  THE  HERB  GARDEN 

VI.  IN  LILAC  TIDE      . 

VII.  OLD  FLOWER  FAVORITES        .         . 

VIII.  COMFORT  ME  WITH  APPLES  . 

IX.  GARDENS  OF  THE  POETS 

X.  THE  CHARM  OF  COLOR 

XL  THE  BLUE  FLOWER  BORDER 

XII.  PLANT  NAMES        .          .          .         . 

XIII.  TUSSY-MUSSIES        ..... 

XIV.  JOAN  SILVER-PIN    .         .         .         .         . 
XV.  CHILDHOOD  IN  A  GARDEN      .         . 

XVI.  MEETIN'  SEED  AND  SABBATH  DAY  POSIES 

XVII.  SUN-DIALS       .....    .         . 

XVIII.  GARDEN  FURNISHINGS     .... 

XIX.  GARDEN    BOUNDARIES     .         .         .         . 

XX.  A  MOONLIGHT  GARDEN 

XXI.  FLOWERS  OF  MYSTERY  .         .         .         . 

XXII.  ROSES  OF  YESTERDAY     .         .  ;      . 

INDEX  .    .    »    .    ..   .    . 
vii 


i 

38 
54 
9i 
107 
132 
161 
192 
215 
233 
252 
280 
296 

309 
326 

34i 
353 
383 
399 
4*5 
433 
459 

479 


List  of  Illustrations 


The  vignette  on  the  title-page  is  re-drawn  trom  one  in  'J'he  Compleat 
Body  of  Husbandry,  Thomas  Hale,  1756.  It  represents  "  Love  laying  out 
the  surface  of  the  earth  in  a  garden." 

The  device  of  the  dedication  is  an  ancient  garden-knot  for  flowers,  from 
A  New  Orchard  and  Garden,  William  Lawson,  1608. 

The  chapter  initials  are  from  old  wood- cut  initials  in  the  English 
Herbals  of  Gerarde,  Parkinson,  and  Cole. 


Garden   of  Johnson   Mansion,    Germantown.     Photographed 

by  Henry  Troth facing  4 

Garden  at  Grumblethorp,  Home  of  Charles  J.  Wister,  Esq., 

Germantown,  Pennsylvania 7 

Garden  of  Bartram  House,  Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania  .  .  9 
Garden  of  Abigail  Adams,  Quincy,  Massachusetts  .  .  .10 
Garden  at  Mount  Vernon-on-the-Potomac,  Virginia.  Home  of 

George  Washington facing  12 

Gate  and  Hedge  of  Preston  Garden,  Columbia,  South  Carolina  1 5 
Fountain  Path  in  Preston  Garden,  Columbia,  South  Carolina  .  1 8 
Door  in  Wall  of  Kitchen  Garden  at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor. 

Croton-on-Httdson,    New    York.       Photographed    by  J. 

Horace  Me  Garland facing  20 

Garden  of  Van  Cortlandt  Manor.  Photographed  by  J.  Horace 

McFarland facing  24 

Garden  at  Prince  Homestead,  Flushing,  Long  Island  .  .  28 
Old  Dutch  Garden  of  Bergen  Homestead,  Bay  Ridge,  Long 

Island facing  32 

Garden  at  Duck  Cove,  Narragansett,  Rhode  Island  .  .  35 
The  Flowering  Almond  under  the  Window.  Photographed  by 

Eva  E.  Newell 39 

Peter's  Wreath.  Photographed  by  Eva  E.  Newell  41 


x  List  of  Illustrations 

PAGE 

Peonies  in  Garden  of  John  Robinson,  Esq..  Salem,  Massachu- 
setts. Photographed  by  Herschel  F.  Davis  .  .  facing  42 

White  Peonies.     Photographed  by  Mary  F.  C.  Paschall    .         .       42 

Yellow  Day  Lilies.     Photographed  by  Clifton  Johnson       .  facing  48 

Orange  Lilies.     Photographed  by  Eva  E.  Newell      ...       50 

Preston  Garden,  Columbia,  South  Carolina      .         .         .  facing   54 

Box-edged  Parterre  at  Hampton,  County  Baltimore,  Maryland. 
Home  of  Mrs.  John  Ridgely.  Photographed  by  Elizabeth 
W.  Trescot 57 

Parterre  and  Clipped  Box  at  Hampton,  County  Baltimore, 
Maryland.  Home  of  Mrs.  John  Ridgely.  Photographed 
by  Elizabeth  W.  Trescot 60 

Garden  of  Mrs.  Mabel  Osgood  Wright,  Waldstein,  Fairfield, 

Connecticut.  Photographed  by  Mabel  Osgood  Wright  .  63 

A  Shaded  Walk,  hi  the  Garden  of  Miss  Harriet  P.  F.  Burn- 
side,  Worcester,  Massachusetts.  Photographed  by  Her- 
schel F.  Da-vis facing  64 

Roses  and  Larkspur  in  the  Garden  of  Miss  Harriet  P.  F. 
Burnside,  Worcester,  Massachusetts.  Photographed  by 
Herschel  F.  Davis .65 

The  Hotnely  Back  Yard.     Photographed  by  Henry  Troth   facing  66 

Covered  Well  at  Home  of  Bishop  Berkeley,  Whitehall,  New- 
port, Rhode  Island 68 

Kitchen  Doorway  and  Porch  at  The  Hedges,  New  Hope,  County 

Bucks,  Pennsylvania 70 

Greenwood,  Thomasville,  Georgia 73 

Roses  and  Violets  in  Garden  of  Greenwood,  Thomasville, 

Georgia facing  74 

Water  Garden  at  Sylvester  Manor,  Shelter  Island,  New  York. 

Home  of  Miss  Cornelia  Horsford. 75 

Garden  at  Avonwood  Court,  Haver  ford,  Pennsylvania.  Coun- 
try-seat of  Charles  E.  Mather,  Esq.  Photographed  by 
J.  Horace  McFarland facing  76 

Terrace  Wall  at  Drumthwacket,  Princeton,  New  Jersey. 

Country-seat  of  M.  Taylor  Pyne,  Esq 76 

Garden  at  Drumthwacket,  Princeton,  New  Jersey.  Country- 
seat  of  M.  Taylor  Pyne,  Esq 77 

Sun-dial  at  Avonwood  Court,  Haver  ford,  Pennsylvania. 
Country-seat  of  Charles  E.  Mather,  Esq.  Photographed 
by  J.  Horace  McFarland facing  80 


List  of  Illustrations  xi 


Entrance  Porch  and  Gate  to  the  Rose  Garden  at  Yaddo,  Sara- 
toga, New  York.  Country-seat  of  Spencer  Trask,  Esq. 
Photographed  by  Gustave  Lorey  .  ...  .82 

Pergola  and  Terrace  Walk  in  Rose  Garden  at  Yaddo,  Sara- 
toga, New  York.  Country-seat  of  Spencer  Trask,  Esq. 
Photographed  by  Gustave  Lorey 83 

Statue  of  Christ alan  in  Rose  Garden  at  Yaddo,  Saratoga,  New 
York.  Country-seat  of  Spencer  Trask,  Esq.  Photo- 
graphed by  Gustave  Lorey 84 

Sun-dial  in  Rose  Garden  at  Yaddo,  Saratoga,  New  York. 
Country-seat  of  Spencer  Trask,  Esq.  Photographed  by 
Gustave  Lorey 86 

Bronze  Dial-face  in  Rose  Garden  at  Yaddo,  Saratoga,  New 
York.  Country-seat  of  Spencer  Trask,  Esq.  Photo- 
graphed by  Gustave  Lorey  .  ...  .  -87 

Ancient  Pine  in  Garden  at  Yaddo,  Saratoga,  New  York. 
Country-seat  of  Spencer  Trask,  Esq.  Photographed  by 
Gustave  Lorey 89 

House  and  Garden  at  Napanock,  County  Ulster,  New  York. 

Photographed  by  Edward  Lainson  Henry,  N.  A.  .facing  92 

Box  Parterre  at  Hampton,  County  Baltimore,  Maryland. 
Home  of  Mrs.  John  Ridgely.  Photographed  by  Elizabeth 
IV.  Trescot 95 

Sun-dial  in  Box  at  Broughton  Castle,  Banbury,  England. 

Garden  of  Lady  Lennox  .  .  .  '  .  .  .  .98 

Sun-dial  in  Box  at  Ascott,  near  Leighton  Buzzard,  England. 

Cottntry-seat  of  Mr.  Leopold  Rothschild  .  .  facing  100 

Garden  at  Tudor  Place,  Georgetown,  District  of  Columbia. 
Home  of  Mrs.  Beverly  Kennon.  Photographed  by  Eliza- 
beth W.  Trescot 103 

Anchor-shaped  Flower  Beds,  Kingston,  Rhode  Island.  Photo- 
graphed by  Sarah  P.  Mar  chant  .  .  .  .  .104 

Ancient  Box  at  Tuckahoe,  Virginia 105 

Herb  Garden  at  White  Birches,  Elmhurst,  Illinois  .         .         .108 

Garden  at  White  Birches,  Elmhurst,  Illinois    .         .         .         .     1 1 1 

Garden  of  Manning  Homestead,  Salem,  Massachusetts      facing  1 1 2 

Under  the  Garret  Eaves  of  Ward  Homestead,  Shrewsbury, 

Massachusetts 116 

A  Gatherer  of  Simples.  Photographed  by  Mary  F.  C. 

Paschall facing  120 


xii  List  of  Illustrations 

PAGE 

Sage.     Photographed  by  Mary  F.  C.  Paschall  .         .         .         .126 
Tansy.     Photographed  by  Mary  F.  C.  Paschall         .         .         .129 
Garden  of  Mrs.  Abraham  Lansing,  Albany,  New  York.     Pho- 
tographed by  Gttstave  Lorey       ....          facing  130 
Ladies*  Delights.     Photographed  by  Eva  E.  Newell .         .  1 33 

Garden  House  and  Long  Walk  in  Garden  of  Hon.  William 

H.  Seward,  Auburn,  New  York         .         .        .          facing  134 
Sun-dial  in  Garden  of  Hon.   William  H.  Seward,  Auburn, 

New  York 136 

Lilacs  in  Midsummer.     In  Garden  of  Mrs.  Abraham  Lan- 
sing,   Albany,   New    York.      Photographed  by    Gustave 

Lorey facing  138 

Lilacs  at  Craigie  House,  Cambridge,  Massachusetts*  the  Home 

of  Longfellow.     Photographed  by  Arthur  N.  Wilmarth    .     141 
Box-edged  Garden  at  Home  of  Longfellow,  Cambridge,  Massa- 
chusetts.    Photographed  by  Arthur  N.  Wilmarth      .         .142 
Joepye-weed  and  Queen  Anne^s  Laces.    Photographed  by  Mary 

F.  C.  Paschall 145 

Boneset.     Photographed  by  Mary  F.  C.  Paschall       .         .         .     1 46 
Magnolias  in  Garden  of  William  Brown,  Esq.,  Flatbush,  Long 

Island facing  148 

Lilacs  at  Hopewell 1 49 

Persian  Lilacs  and  Peonies  in  Garden  of  Kimball  Homestead, 

Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire 151 

Opyn-tide,  the  Thought  of  Spring.     Garden  of  Mrs.  Abraham 
Lansing,   Albany,   New    York.      Photographed  by  Pirie 
MacDonald        .......          facing  154 

A  Thought  of  Winter's  Snows.    Garden  of  Frederick  J.  Kings- 
bury,  Esq.,  Waterbury,  Connecticut 157 

Larkspur  and  Phlox.     Garden  of  Miss  Frances  Clary  Morse, 

Worcester,  Massachusetts 162 

Sweet  William  and  Foxglove 1 63 

Plume  Poppy 164 

Meadow  Rue 167 

Money-in-both-Pockets 171 

Box  Walk  in  Garden  of  Frederick  J.  Kingsbury,  Esq.,  Water- 
bury,  Connecticut 173 

Lunaria  in   Garden  of  Mrs.  Mabel   Osgood  Wright,   Fair- 
field,  Connecticut.     Photographed  by  Mabel  Osgood  Wright 

facing  174 


List  of  Illustrations  xiii 


PAGE 


Dahlia    Walk  at  Ravensworth,   County  Fairfax,    Virginia. 

Home  of  Mrs.  W.  R.  Fitzhugh  Lee.     Photographed  by 

Elizabeth  W.  Trescot 177 

Petunias 180 

Virgin's  Bower,  in    Garden  of  Miss  Frances  Clary  Morse, 

Worcester,  Massachusetts 184 

Matrimony  Vine  at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor.     Photographed  by 

J.  Horace  Me  Far  land        , 186 

White  Chinese  Wistaria,  in  Garden  of  Mortimer  Howell,  Esq., 

West  Hampton  Beach,  Long  island 1 88 

Spircea   Van  Houtteii.     Photographed  by  J.  Horace  McFar- 

land facing  190 

Old  Apple  Tree  at   Whitehall.      Home  of  Bishop  Berkeley, 

near  Newport,  Rhode  Island 194 

"  The  valley  stretching  below 
Is  white  with  blossoming  Apple  trees, 
As  if  touched  with  lightest  snow.'1'1 

Photographed  by  T.  E.  M.  and  G.  F.  White       .        .         .197 
Old  Hand-power  Cider  Mill.    Photographed  by  Mary  F.  C. 

Paschall      .  198 

Pressing  out  the  Cider  in  Old  Hand  Mill 200 

Old  Cider  Mill  with  Horse  Power.     Photographed  by  T.  E.  M. 

and  G.  F.  White 203 

Straining  off  the  Cider  into  Barrels  .        .        .        .         .         .     204 

Drying  Apples.     Photographed  by  T.  E.  M.  and  G.  F.  White 

facing  208 
Ancient  Apple   Picker,   Apple  Racks,  Apple  Parers,  Apple 

Butter  Kettle,  Apple  Butter  Paddle,  Apple  Butter  Stirrer, 

Apple   Butter    Crocks.      Photographed  by  Mary  F.   C. 

Paschall 21 1 

Making  Apple  Butter.     Photographed  by  Mary  F.  C.  Paschall 

facing  214 
Shakespeare  Border  in  Garden  at  Hillside,  Menand?s,  near 

Albany,  New  York.     Photographed  by  Gustave  Lorey       .     216 
Long  Border  at  Hillside,  Menand^s,  near  Albany,  New  York. 

Photographed  by  Gustave  Lorey          .         .         .          facing  218 
The  Beauty  of  Winter  Lilacs.     In  Garden  of  Mrs.  Abraham 

Lansing,  Albany,  New  York.    Photographed  by  Pirie  Mac- 
Donald        220 

Garden  of  Mrs.  Frank  Robinson,  Wakefteld,  Rhode  Island     .     222 


xiv  List  of  Illustrations 


PAGE 


The  Parson's  Walk   .........     225 

Garden  of  Mary  Washington 228 

Box  and  Phlox.  Garden  of  Sylvester  Manor,  Shelter  Island, 

New  York 230 

Within  the  Weeping  Beech.  Photographed  by  E.  C.  Nichols 

facing  232 

Spring  Snow/lake,  Garden  of  Miss  Frances  Clary  Morse, 
Worcester,  Massachusetts.  Photographed  by  Herschel  F. 
Da-vis 234 

Star  of  Bethlehem,  in  Garden  of  Miss  Frances  Clary  Morse, 
Worcester,  Massachusetts.  Photographed  by  Herschel  F. 
Davis 237 

"The  Pearl"  Achillaa 238 

Pyrethrum.     Photographed  by  Mary  F.  C.  Paschall  .        .         .     242 

Terraced  Garden  of  the  Misses  Nichols,  Salem,  Massachusetts. 

Photographed  by  Herschel  F.  Davis 246 

Arbor  in  a  Salem  Garden 250 

Scilla  in  Garden  of  Miss  Frances  Clary  Morse,  Worcester, 

Massachusetts 254 

Sweet  Alyssum  Edging  of  White  Border  at  Indian  Hill,  New- 
bur  y  port,  Massachusetts .256 

Bachelor**  Buttons  in  a  Salem  Garden.  Home  of  Mrs.  Ed- 
ward B.  Peirson 258 

A  "  Sweet  Garden-side "  in  Salem,  Massachusetts,  Home  of 

John  Robinson,  Esq.  ......  facing  260 

Salpiglossis  in  Garden  at  Indian  Hill,  Newburyport,  Massa- 
chusetts. Photographed  by  Herschel  F.  Davis  .  .  .261 

The  Old  Campanula,  Garden  of  Miss  Frances  Clary  Morse, 

Worcester,  Massachusetts 263 

Chinese  Bellflower.     Photographed  by  Herschel  F.  Davis  .        .     264 

Garden  at  Tudor  Place,  Georgetown,  District  of  Columbia. 
Home  of  Mrs.  Beverly  Kennon.  Photographed  by  Eliza- 
beth W.  Trescot facing  266 

Light  as  a  Loop  of  Larkspur,  in  Garden  of  Judge  Oliver  Wen- 
dell Holmes,  Beverly,  Massachusetts 269 

Vipers  Bugloss.     Photographed  by  Henry  Troth       .         .         .     274 

The  Prim  Precision  of  Leaf  and  Flower  of  Lupine.  Photo- 
graphed by  Henry  Troth 276 

The  Garden's  Friend.    Photographed  by  Clifton  Johnson         .     281 


List  of  Illustrations  xv 


PAGE 


Edging  of  Striped  Lilies  in  a  Salem  Garden.    Photographed  by 

Herschel  F.  Davis      . 283 

Garden  Seat  at  Avonwood  Court.    Photographed  by  J.  Horace 

McFarland         .......          facing  286 

Terraced  Garden  of  the  Misses  Nichols,  Salem,  Massachusetts  288 
"A  Running  Ribbon  of  Perfumed  Snow  which  the  Sun  is 

melting  rapidly.'1''    At  Marchant  Farm,  Kingston,  Rhode 

Island.     Photographed  by  Sarah  F.  Marchant .         .         .     292 
Fountain   Garden  at  Sylvester  Manor,  Shelter  Island,  New 

York facing  294 

Hawthorn  Arch  at  Holly  House,  Peace  Dale,  Rhode  Island. 

Home  of  Rowland  G.  Hazard,  Esq 298 

Thyme-covered  Graves.     Photographed  by  Mary  F.  C.  Paschall    301 
"  White  Umbrellas  of  Elder  "    .......     305 

Lower  Garden  at  Sylvester  Manor,  Shelter  Island,  New  York 

facing  308 
"  Black-heart  Amorous  Poppies v       .         .         .        .         .         .310 

Valerian.  Photographed  by  E.  C.Nichols  .  •'.  .  .  314 
Old  War  Office  in  Garden  at  Salem,  New  Jersey  .  .  .  319 
Crown  Imperial.  Page  from  Gerarde^s  Herball  .  facing  324 

The  Children^  Garden .          facing  330 

Foxgloves  in  a  Narragansett  Garden  .  .  .  .  .  333 
Hollyhocks  in  Garden  of  Kimball  Homestead,  Portsmouth,  New 

Hampshire facing  334 

Autumn  View  of  an  Old  Worcester  Garden  .  .  facing  338 
Hollyhocks  at  Tudor  Place,  Georgetown,  District  of  Columbia. 

Home  of  Mrs.  Beverly  Kennon 339 

An  Old  Worcester  Garden.     Home  of  Edwin  A.  Fawcett,Esq. 

facing  340 

Caraway 342 

Sun-dial  of  Jonathan  Fairbanks,  Esq.,  Dedham,  Massachu- 
setts  344 

Bronze  Sun-dial  on  Dutch   Reformed  Church,     West    End 

Avenue,  New  York     .         .        .         .         .         .         .         .     346 

Sun-dial  mounted  on  Boulder,  Swiftwater,  Pennsylvania  .  347 
Buckthorn  Arch  in  Garden  of  Mrs.  Edward  B.  Peirson, 

Salem,    Massachusetts.       Photographed   by  Herschel  F. 

Davis    ,-  '»...'...  .  .-r.  i     .-;...         .         .         .          facing  348 

Sun-dial  at  Emery  Place,  Brightwood,  District  of  Columbia. 

Photographed  by  William  Van  Zandt  Cox         .        .        .     349 


xvi  List  of  Illustrations 


Sun-dial  at  Travellers '  Rest,  Virginia.     Home  of  Mrs.  Bowie 

Gray.     Photographed  by  Elizabeth  IV.  Trescot  .         .         -350 
Two  Old  Cronies  ;  the  Sun-dial  and  Beeskepe.     Photographed 

by  Eva  E.  Newell 354 

Portable  Sun-dial  from  Collection  of  the  Author       .         .         .     356 
Sun-dial  in  Garden  of  Frederick  J.  Kingsbury,  Esq.,  Water- 
bury,  Connecticut 358 

Sun-dial  at  Morristown,  New  Jersey.    Designed  by  IV.  Gedney 

Beatty,  Esq 359 

"  Yes,  Toby,  ifs  Three  o^clock?''     Judge  Daly  and  his  Sun-dial 
at  Sag  Harbor,  Long  Island.     Drawn  by  Edward  Lamson 

Henry,  N.A 361 

Face  of  Dial  at  Sag  Harbor,  Long  Island         ....     362 
Sun-dial  in   Garden  of  Grace  Church  Rectory,  New   York. 

Photographed  by  J.  IV.  Dow 364 

Fugio  Bank-note 365 

Sun-dial  at  "Washington  House,"  Little  Brington,  England   .     367 
Dial-face  from  Mount  Vernon.     Owned  by  William  F.  Have- 

meyer,  Esq 368 

Sun-dial  from  Home  of  Mary  Washington,  Fredericksburg, 

Virginia.     Photographed  by  Elizabeth  W.  Trescot     .         .     369 
Kenmore,  the  Home  of  Betty  Washington  Lewis,  Fredericks- 
burg,  Virginia.     Photographed  by  Elizabeth  W.  Trescot    .     371 
Sun-dial  in  Garden  of  Charles  T.  Jenkins,  Esq.,  Germantown, 

Pennsylvania 373 

Sun-dial  at  Ophir  Farm,  White  Plains,  New  York.     Country- 
seat  of Hon.  White  law  Reid 375 

Sun-dial  at  Hillside,  Menand's,  near  Albany,  New  York         .     378 
Old  Brass  and  Pewter  Dial-faces  from  Collection  of  Author  .     379 

Beata  Beatrix ,        .  facing  380 

The  Faithful  Gardener     .        .        ...        *        .        .381 
A  Garden  Lyre  at  Waterford,  Virginia  .         .         .          facing  384 

A  Virginia  Lyre  with  Vines 386 

Old   Iron    Gates  at    Westover-on-James,    Virginia.      Photo- 
graphed by  George  S.  Cook 388 

Ironwork  in  Court  of  Colt  Mansion,  Bristol,  Rhode  Island. 

Photographed  by  J.  W.Dow 390 

Sharpening  the  Old  Dutch  Scythe.     Photographed  by  Mary 

F.  C.  Paschall    ..*....          facing  392 


List  of  Illustrations  xvii 

PAGE 

Smntner-house  at  Ravensworth,    County  Fairfax,    Virginia. 
Home  of  Mrs.   W.  H.  Fitzhugh  Lee.      Photographed  by 

Elizabeth  W.  Trescot 392 

Beehives  at  Waterford,   Virginia.      Photographed  by  Henry 

Troth facing  394 

Beehives  under  the  Trees.     Photographed  by  Henry  Troth       .     395 
Spring  House  at  Johnson  Homestead,  Germantown,  Pennsyl- 
vania.    Photographed  by  Henry  Troth     .         .         .  facing  396 
Dovecote  at  Shirley-on-James,  Virginia.     From  Some  Colonial 
Mansions  and  Those  who  lived  in  Them.     Published  by 
Henry  T.  Coates  &=  Co.,  Philadelphia        ....     397 

The  Peacock  in  his  Pride   . 398 

The  Guardian  of  the  Garden 400 

Brick    Terrace    Wall   at    Van    Cortlandt    Manor.       Photo- 
graphed by  J.  Horace  McFarland      .         .         .          facing  402 

Rail  Fence  Corner 403 

Topiary  Work  at  Levens  Hall .......     404 

Oval  Pergola  at  Arlington,  Virginia.     Photographed  by  Eliza- 
beth W.  Trescot facing  406 

French  Homestead,  Kingston,  Rhode  Island,  with  Old  Stone 

Terrace  Wall.     Photographed  by  Sarah  F.  Marchant       .     407 
Italian  Garden  at  Wellesley,  Massachusetts.     Country-seat  of 

Hollis  H.  Hunnewell,  Esq facing  408 

Marble  Steps  in  Italian  Garden  at  Wellesley,  Massachusetts    .     410 

Topiary  Work  in  California 412 

Serpentine  Brick  Wall  at  University  of  Virginia,  Charlottes- 

ville,  Virginia.     Photographed  by  Elizabeth  W.  Trescot     .     413 
Chestnut  Path  in  Garden  at  Indian  Hill,  Newburyporl,  Mas- 
sachusetts.    Photographed  by  Herschel  F.  Davis         facing  418 
Foxgloves  in  Lower   Garden  at  Indian  Hill,  Newburyport, 

Massachusetts.  Photographed  by  Herschel  F.  Davis  .  42 1 
Dame's  Rocket.  Photographed  by  Mary  F.  C.  Paschall  .  .  424 
Snakeroot.  Photographed  by  Mary  F.  C.  Paschall  .  .  .  426 
Title-page  of  Parkinson's  Paradisi  in  Solis,  etc.  .  facing  428 
Yuccas,  like  White  Marble  against  the  Evergreens  .  .  .  430 
Fraxinella  in  Garden  of  Miss  Frances  Clary  Morse,  Worces- 
ter, Massachusetts facing  432 

Love-in-a-Mist.     Photographed  by  Henry  Troth       .         .         .     436 
Spiderwort  in  an  Old  Worcester  Garden.     Photographed  by 

Herschel  F.  Davis     ......          facing  438 


xviii  List  of  Illustrations 

PAGE 

Gardeners  Garters  at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor.  Photographed 

by  J.  Horace  McFarland  .  .  ..-••..  •  •  •  44° 

Garden  Walk  at  The  Manse,  Deerfield,  Massachusetts.  Photo- 
graphed by  Clifton  Johnson  ....  facing  442 

London  Pride.     Photographed  by  Eva  E.  Newell      .         .         .445 

White  Fritillaria  in  Garden  of  Miss  Frances  Clary  Morse, 

Worcester,  Massachusetts 448 

Bouncing  Bet     . •         •     451 

Overgrown  Garden  at  Llanerck,  Pennsylvania.  Photographed 

by  Henry  Troth facing  454 

Fountain  at  Yaddo,  Saratoga,  New  York.  Country-seat  of 

Spencer  Trask,  Esq.  .  .  .  .  •  .  .  -455 

Avenue  of  White  Pines  at  Wellesley,  Massachusetts.  Country- 
seat  of  Hollis  H.  Hunneivell,  Esq 456 

Violets  in  Silver  Double  Coaster        .         .        .         .         .        .461 

York  and  Lancaster  Rose  at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor.  Photo- 
graphed by  J.  Horace  McFarland  .  .  .  facing  462 

Cinnamon  Roses.     Photographed  by  Mabel  Osgood  Wright       .     465 

Cottage  Garden  with  Roses.  Photographed  by  Mary  F.  C. 

Paschall facing  468 

Madame  Plantier  Rose.  Photographed  by  Mabel  Osgood 

Wright 474 

Sun-dial  and  Roses  at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor.  Photographed 

by  J.  Horace  McFarland  .....  facing  476 


Old   Time   Gardens 


Old   Time   Gardens 


CHAPTER  I 


COLONIAL    GARDEN-MAKING 

"  There  is  not  a  softer  trait  to  be  found  in  the  character  of  those 
stern  men  than  that  they  should  have  been  sensible  of  these  flower- 
roots  clinging  among  the  fibres  of  their  rugged  hearts,  and  felt  the 
necessity  of  bringing  them  over  sea,  and  making  them  hereditary  in 
the  new  land." 

—  American   Note-book,   NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE. 


FTER  ten  wearisome  weeks  of 
travel  across  an  unknown  sea, 
to  an  equally  unknown  world, 
the  group  of  Puritan  men  and 
women  who  were  the  founders 
of  Boston  neared  their  Land  of 
Promise  ;  and  their  noble  leader, 
John  Winthrop,  wrote  in  his 


Journal  that  "we  had  now  fair  Sunshine  Weather 
and  so  pleasant  a  sweet  Aire  as  did  much  refresh  us, 
and  there  came  a  smell  off  the  Shore  like  the  Smell 
of  a  Garden." 

A  Smell  of  a  Garden  was  the  first  welcome  to  our 
ancestors  from  their  new  home  ;  and  a  pleasant  and 
perfect  emblem  it  was  of  the  life  that  awaited  them. 


2  Old  Time  Gardens 

They  were  not  to  become  hunters  and  rovers,  not 
to  be  eager  to  explore  quickly  the  vast  wilds  beyond  ; 
they  were  to  settle  down  in  the  most  domestic  of 
lives,  as  tillers  of  the  soil,  as  makers  of  gardens. 

What  must  that  sweet  air  from  the  land  have  been 
to  the  sea-weary  Puritan  women  on  shipboard,  laden 
to  them  with  its  promise  of  a  garden  !  for  I  doubt 
not  every  woman  bore  with  her  across  seas  some 
little  package  of  seeds  and  bulbs  from  her  English 
home  garden,  and  perhaps  a  tiny  slip  or  plant  of 
some  endeared  flower ;  watered  each  day,  I  fear, 
with  many  tears,  as  well  as  from  the  surprisingly 
scant  water  supply  which  we  know  was  on  board 
that  ship. 

And  there  also  came  flying  to  the  Arbella  as  to 
the  Ark,  a  Dove  —  a  bird  of  promise  —  and  soon 
the  ship  came  to  anchor. 

"  With  hearts  revived  in  conceit  new  Lands  and  Trees  they  spy, 
Scenting  the  Caedars  and  Sweet  Fern  from  heat's  reflection  dry," 

wrote  one  colonist  of  that  arrival,  in  his  Good  Newes 
from  New  England.  I  like  to  think  that  Sweet 
Fern,  the  characteristic  wild  perfume  of  New  Eng- 
land, was  wafted  out  to  greet  them.  And  then  all 
went  on  shore  in  the  sunshine  of  that  ineffable  time 
and  season, — a  New  England  day  in  June,  —  and 
they  "  gathered  store  of  fine  strawberries,"  just  as 
their  Salem  friends  had  on  a  June  day  on  the  pre- 
ceding year  gathered  strawberries  and  "  sweet  Single 
Roses"  so  resembling  the  English  Eglantine  that  the 
hearts  of  the  women  must  have  ached  within  them 
with  fresh  homesickness.  And  ere  long  all  had 


Colonial  Garden-making  3 

dwelling-places,  were  they  but  humble  log  cabins; 
and  pasture  lands  and  commons  were  portioned 
out ;  and  in  a  short  time  all  had  garden-plots,  and 
thus,  with  sheltering  roof-trees,  and  warm  firesides, 
and  with  gardens,  even  in  this  lonely  new  world, 
they  had  homes.  The  first  entry  in  the  Plymouth 
Records  is  a  significant  one  ;  it  is  the  assignment 
of  "  Meresteads  and  Garden-Plotes,"  not  mere- 
steads  alone,  which  were  farm  lands,  but  home 
gardens  :  the  outlines  of  these  can  still  be  seen  in 
Plymouth  town.  And  soon  all  sojourners  who  bore 
news  back  to  England  of  the  New-Englishmen  and 
New-Englishwomen,  told  of  ample  store  of  gardens. 
Ere  a  year  had  passed  hopeful  John  Winthrop 
wrote,  "  My  Deare  Wife,  wee  are  here  in  a  Para- 
dise." In  four  years  the  chronicler  Wood  said  in 
his  New  England's  Prospect,  "There  is  growing  here 
all  manner  of  herbs  for  meat  and  medicine,  and  that 
not  only  in  planted  gardens,  but  in  the  woods,  with- 
out the  act  and  help  of  man."  Governor  Endicott 
had  by  that  time  a  very  creditable  garden. 

And  by  every  humble  dwelling  the  homesick 
goodwife  or  dame,  trying  to  create  a  semblance  of 
her  fair  English  home  so  far  away,  planted  in  her 
"  garden  plot  "  seeds  and  roots  of  homely  English 
flowers  and  herbs,  that  quickly  grew  and  blossomed 
and  smiled  on  bleak  New  England's  rocky  shores 
as  sturdily  and  happily  as  they  had  bloomed  in  the 
old  gardens  and  by  the  ancient  door  sides  in  Eng- 
land. What  good  cheer  they  must  have  brought! 
how  they  must  have  been  beloved!  for  these  old 
English  garden  flowers  are  such  gracious  things; 


4  Old  Time  Gardens 

marvels  of  scent,  lavish  of  bloom,  bearing  such  ge- 
nial faces,  growing  so  readily  and  hardily,  spreading 
so  quickly,  responding  so  gratefully  to  such  little 
care:  what  pure  refreshment  they  bore  in  their  blos- 
soms, what  comfort  in  their  seeds  ;  they  must  have 
seemed  an  emblem  of  hope,  a  promise  of  a  new  and 
happy  home.  I  rejoice  over  every  one  that  I  know 
was  in  those  little  colonial  gardens,  for  each  one 
added  just  so  much  measure  of  solace  to  what  seems 
to  me,  as  I  think  upon  it,  one  of  the  loneliest,  most 
fearsome  things  that  gentlewomen  ever  had  to  do, 
all  the  harder  because  neither  by  poverty  nor  by  un- 
avoidable stress  were  they  forced  to  it ;  they  came 
across-seas  willingly,  for  conscience'  sake.  These 
women  were  not  accustomed  to  the  thought  of  emi- 
gration, as  are  European  folk  to-day  ;  they  had  no 
friends  to  greet  them  in  the  new  land  ;  they  were 
to  encounter  wild  animals  and  wild  men;  sea  and 
country  were  unknown  —  they  could  scarce  expect 
ever  to  return  :  they  left  everything,  and  took 
nothing  of  comfort  but  their  Bibles  and  their  flower 
seeds.  So  when  I  see  one  of  the  old  English 
flowers,  grown  of  those  days,  blooming  now  in  my 
garden,  from  the  unbroken  chain  of  blossom  to  seed 
of  nearly  three  centuries,  I  thank  the  flower  for  all 
that  its  forbears  did  to  comfort  my  forbears,  and 
I  cherish  it  with  added  tenderness. 

We  should  have  scant  notion  of  the  gardens  of 
these  New  England  colonists  in  the  seventeenth 
century  were  it  not  for  a  cheerful  traveller  named 
John  josselyn,  a  man  of  everyday  tastes  and  much 
inquisitiveness,  and  the  pleasing  literary  style  which 


Colonial  Garden-making  5 

comes  from  directness,  and  an  absence  of  self- 
consciousness.  He  published  in  1672  a  book  en- 
titled New  England's  Rarities  discovered,  etc.,  and 
in  1674  another  volume  giving  an  account  of  his 
two  voyages  hither  in  1638  and  1663.  He  made  a 
very  careful  list  of  vegetables  which  he  found  thriv- 
ing in  the  new  land ;  and  since  his  flower  list  is  the 
earliest  known,  I  will  transcribe  it  in  full ;  it  isn't 
long,  but  there  is  enough  in  it  to  make  it  a  sugges- 
tive outline  which  we  can  fill  in  from  what  we  know 
of  the  plants  to-day,  and  form  a  very  fair  picture 
of  those  gardens. 

"  Spearmint, 

Rew,  will  hardly  grow 

Fetherfew  prospereth  exceedingly ; 

Southernwood,  is  no  Plant  for  this  Country,  Nor 

Rosemary.     Nor 

Bayes. 

White-Satten  groweth  pretty  well,  so  doth 

Lavender-Cotton.     But 

Lavender  is  not  for  the  Climate. 

Penny  Royal 

Smalledge. 

Ground  Ivey,  or  Ale  Hoof. 

Gilly  Flowers  will  continue  two  Years. 

Fennel  must  be  taken  up,  and  kept  in  a  Warm  Cellar  all 

Winter 

Horseleek  prospereth  notably 
Holly  hocks 

Enula  Canpana,  in  two  years  time  the  Roots  rot. 
Comferie,  with  White  Flowers. 
Coriander,  and 
Dill,  and 


6  Old  Time  Gardens 

Annis  thrive  exceedingly,  but  Annis  Seed,  as  also  the  seed  of 
Fennel  seldom  come  to   maturity  ;    the  Seed  of  Annis  is 

commonly  eaten  with  a  Fly. 
Clary  never  lasts  but  one  Summer,  the  Roots  rot  with  the 

Frost. 

Sparagus  thrives  exceedingly,  so  does 
Garden  Sorrel,  and 
Sweet  Bryer  or  Eglantine 
Bloodwort  but  sorrily,  but 
Patience  and 

English  Roses  very  pleasantly. 
Celandine,   by    the    West    Country    now  called    Kenning 

Wort  grows  but  slowly. 
Muschater,  as  well  as  in  England 

Dittander  or  Pepperwort  flourisheth  notably  and  so  doth 
Tansie." 

These  lists  were  published  fifty  years  after  the 
landing  of  the  Pilgrims  at  Plymouth  ;  from  them 
we  find  that  the  country  was  just  as  well  stocked 
with  vegetables  as  it  was  a  hundred  years  later  when 
other  travellers  made  lists,  but  the  flowers  seem 
few ;  still,  such  as  they  were,  they  formed  a  goodly 
sight.  With  rows  of  Hollyhocks  glowing  against 
the  rude  stone  walls  and  rail  fences  of  their  little 
yards ;  with  clumps  of  Lavender  Cotton  and  Honesty 
and  Gillyflowers  blossoming  freely  ;  with  Feverfew 
"  prospering  "  to  sow  and  slip  and  pot  and  give  to 
neighbors  just  as  New  England  women  have  done 
with  Feverfew  every  year  of  the  centuries  that  have 
followed ;  with  "  a  Rose  looking  in  at  the  window  " 
—  a  Sweetbrier,  Eglantine,  or  English  Rose  — 
these  colonial  dames  might  well  find  "  Patience 


Colonial '  Garden-making  y 

growing  very  pleasantly  "  in  their  hearts  as  in  their 
gardens. 

They  had  plenty  of  pot  herbs  for  their  accustomed 
savoring;   and  plenty  of  medicinal   herbs  for  their 


Garden  at  Grumblethorp,   Germantown,   Pennsylvania. 


wonted  dosing.  Shakespeare's  "  nose-herbs  "  were 
not  lacking.  Doubtless  they  soon  added  to  these 
garden  flowers  many  of  our  beautiful  native  blooms, 
rejoicing  if  they  resembled  any  beloved  English 


8  Old  Time  Gardens 

flowers,  and  quickly  giving  them,  as  we  know, 
familiar  old  English  plant-names. 

And  there  were  other  garden  inhabitants,  as  truly 
English  as  were  the  cherished  flowers,  the  old  gar- 
den weeds,  which  quickly  found  a  home  and  thrived 
in  triumph  in  the  new  soil.  Perhaps  the  weed  seeds 
came  over  in  the  flower-pot  that  held  a  sheltered 
plant  or  cutting ;  perhaps  a  few  were  mixed  with 
garden  seeds ;  perhaps  they  were  in  the  straw  or 
other  packing  of  household  goods  :  no  one  knew 
the  manner  of  their  coming,  but  there  they  were, 
Motherwort,  Groundsel, 'Chickweed,  and  Wild  Mus- 
tard, Mullein  and  Nettle,  Henbane  and  Wormwood. 
Many  a  goodwife  must  have  gazed  in  despair  at 
the  persistent  Plantain,  "  the  Englishman's  foot," 
which  seems  to  have  landed  in  Plymouth  from  the 
Mayflower. 

Josselyn  made  other  lists  of  plants  which  he 
found  in  America,  under  these  headings:  — 

"  Such  plants  as  are  common  with  us  in  England. 

Such  plants  as  are  proper  to  the  Country. 

Such   plants  as  are   proper   to   the    Country  and   have  no 

name. 
Such  plants  as  have  sprung  up  since  the  English   planted, 

and  kept  cattle  in  New  England." 

In  these  lists  he  gives  a  surprising  number  of 
English  weeds  which  had  thriven  and  rejoiced  in 
their  new  home. 

Mr.  Tuckerman  calls  Josselyn's  list  of  the  fishes 
of  the  new  world  a  poor  makeshift ;  his  various 
lists  of  plants  are  better,  but  they  are  the  lists  of 


Colonial  Garden-making  9 

an  herbalist,  not  of  a  botanist.  He  had  some  acquain- 
tance with  the  practice  of  physic,  of  which  he  narrates 
some  examples  ;  and  an  interest  in  kitchen  recipes, 
and  included  a  few  in  his  books.  He  said  that  Par- 
kinson or  another  botanist  might  have  "found  in 


Garden  of  the  Bartram  House,  Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania. 

New  England  a  thousand,  at  least,  of  plants  never 
heard  of  nor  seen  by  any  Englishman  before,"  and 
adds  that  he  was  himself  an  indifferent  observer. 
He  certainly  lost  an  extraordinary  opportunity  of 
distinguishing  himself,  indeed-of  immortalizing  him- 
self; and  it  is  surprising  that  he  was  so  heedless, 
for  Englishmen  of  that  day  were  in  general  eager 
botanists.  The  study  of  plants  was  new,  and  was 


10 


Old  Time  Gardens 


deemed  of  such  absorbing  interest  and  fascination 
that  some  rigid  Puritans  feared  they  might  lose 
their  immortal  souls  through  making  their  new 
plants  their  idols. 

When  Josselyn  wrote,  but  few  of  our  American 
flowers  were  known  to  European  botanists  ;   Indian 


Garden  of  Abigail  Adams. 

Corn,  Pitcher  Plant,  Columbine,  Milkweed,  Ever- 
lasting, and  Arbor-vitae  had  been  described  in  printed 
books,  and  the  Evening  Primrose.  A  history  of 
Canadian  and  other  new  plants,  by  Dr.  Cornuti,  had 
been  printed  in  Europe,  giving  thirty-seven  of  our 
plants ;  and  all  English  naturalists  were  longing 
to  add  to  the  list;  the  ships  which  brought  over 


Colonial  Garden-making  n 

homely  seeds  and  plants  for  the  gardens  of  the 
colonists  carried  back  rare  American  seeds  and  plants 
for  English  physic  gardens. 

In  Pennsylvania,  from  the  first  years  of  the  set- 
tlement, William  Penn  encouraged  his  Quaker 
followers  to  plant  English  flowers  and  fruit  in 
abundance,  and  to  try  the  fruits  of  the  new  world. 
Father  Pastorius,  in  his  Germantown  settlement, 
assigned  to  each  family  a  garden-plot  of  three  acres, 
as  befitted  a  man  who  left  behind  him  at  his  death 
a  manuscript  poem  of  many  thousand  words  on  the 
pleasures  of  gardening,  the  description  of  flowers, 
and  keeping  of  bees.  George  Fox,  the  founder  of 
the  Friends,  or  Quakers,  died  in  1690.  He  had 
travelled  in  the  colonies ;  and  in  his  will  he  left 
sixteen  acres  of  land  to  the  Quaker  meeting  in 
the  city  of  Philadelphia.  Of  these  sixteen  acres, 
ten  were  for  "  a  close  to  put  Friends'  horses  in 
when  they  came  afar  to  the  Meeting,  that  they 
may  not  be  Lost  in  the  Woods,"  while  the  other 
six  were  for  a  site  for  a  meeting-house  and  school- 
house,  and  "  for  a  Playground  for  the  Children 
of  the  town  to  Play  on,  and  for  a  Garden  to  plant 
with  Physical  Plants,  for  Lads  and  Lasses  to  know 
Simples,  and  to  learn  to  make  Oils  and  Oint- 
ments." Few  as  are  these  words,  they  convey  a 
positive  picture  of  Fox's  intent,  and  a  pleasing 
picture  it  is.  He  had  seen  what  interest  had  been 
awakened  and  what  instruction  conveyed  through 
the  "  Physick-Garden  "  at  Chelsea,  England ;  and 
he  promised  to  himself  similar  interest  and  informa- 
tion from  the  study  of  plants  and  flowers  by  the 


12  Old  Time  Gardens 

Quaker  "lads  and  lasses"  of  the  new  world.  Though 
nothing  came  from  this  bequest,  there  was  a  later 
fulfilment  of  Fox's  hopes  in  the  establishment  of 
a  successful  botanic  garden  in  Philadelphia,  and,  in 
the  planting,  growth,  and  flourishing  in  the  province 
of  Pennsylvania  of  the  loveliest  gardens  in  the  new 
world ;  there  floriculture  reached  by  the  time  of  the 
Revolution  a  very  high  point ;  and  many  exquisite 
gardens  bore  ample  testimony  to  the  "  pride  of  life," 
as  well  as  to  the  good  taste  and  love  of  flowers 
of  Philadelphia  Friends.  The  garden  at  Grumble- 
thorp,  the  home  of  Charles  J.  Wister,  Esq.,  of 
Germantownj  Pennsylvania,  shown  on  page  7,  dates 
to  colonial  days  and  is  still  flourishing  and  beautiful. 
In  1728  was  established,  by  John  Bartram,  in 
Philadelphia,  the  first  botanic  garden  in  America. 
The  ground  on  which  it  was  planted,  and  the  stone 
dwelling-house  he  built  thereon  in  1731,  are  now 
part  of  the  park  system  of  Philadelphia.  A  view 
of  the  garden  as  now  in  cultivation  is  given  on 
page  9.  Bartram  travelled  much  in  America,  and 
through  his  constant  correspondence  and  flower 
exchanges  with  distinguished  botanists  and  plant 
growers  in  Europe,  many  native  American  plants 
became  well  known  in  foreign  gardens,  among  them 
the  Lady's  Slipper  and  Rhododendron.  He  was  a 
Quaker,  —  a  quaint  and  picturesque  figure,  —  and 
his  example  helped  to  establish  the  many  fine  gar- 
dens in  the  vicinity  of  Philadelphia.  The  example 
and  precept  of  Washington  also  had  important  in- 
fluence ;  for  he  was  constant  in  his  desire  and  his 
effort  to  secure  every  good  and  new  plant,  grain, 


Colonial  Garden-making  13 

shrub,  and  tree  for  his  home  at  Mount  Vernon. 
A  beautiful  tribute  to  his  good  taste  and  that  of 
his  wife  still  exists  in  the  Mount  Vernon  flower 
garden,  which  in  shape,  Box  edgings,  and  many 
details  is  precisely  as  it  was  in  their  day.  A  view 
of  its  well-ordered  charms  is  shown  opposite  page 
12.  Whenever  I  walk  in  this  garden  I  am  deeply 
grateful  to  the  devoted  women  who  keep  it  in  such 
perfection,  as  an  object-lesson  to  us  of  the  dignity, 
comeliness,  and  beauty  of  a  garden  of  the  olden 
times. 

There  is  little  evidence  that  a  general  love  and 
cultivation  of  flowers  was  as  common  in  humble 
homes  in  the  Southern  colonies  as  in  New  England 
and  the  Middle  provinces.  The  teeming  abun- 
dance near  the  tropics  rendered  any  special  garden- 
ing unnecessary  for  poor  folk ;  flowers  grew  and 
blossomed  lavishly  everywhere  without  any  coaxing 
or  care.  On  splendid  estates  there  were  splendid 
gardens,  which  have  nearly  all  suffered  by  the  devas- 
tations of  war  —  in  some  towns  they  were  thrice 
thus  scourged.  So  great  was  the  beauty  of  these 
Southern  gardens  and  so  vast  the  love  they  pro- 
voked in  their  owners,  that  in  more  than  one  case 
the  life  of  the  garden's  master  was  merged  in  that 
of  the  garden.  The  British  soldiers  during  the 
War  of  the  Revolution  wantonly  destroyed  the  ex- 
quisite flowers  at  "  The  Grove,"  just  outside  the 
city  of  Charleston,  and  their  owner,  Mr.  Gibbes, 
dropped  dead  in  grief  at  the  sight  of  the  waste. 

The  great  wealth  of  the  Southern  planters,  their 
constant  and  extravagant  following  of  English  cus- 


14  Old  Time  Gardens 

toms  and  fashions,  their  fertile  soil  and  favorable 
climate,  and  their  many  slaves,  all  contributed  to 
the  successful  making  of  elaborate  gardens.  Even 
as  early  as  1682  South  Carolina  gardens  were  de- 
clared to  be  "  adorned  with  such  Flowers  as  to  the 
Smell  or  Eye  are  pleasing  or  agreeable,  as  the  Rose, 
Tulip,  Lily,  Carnation,  &c."  William  Byrd  wrote 
of  the  terraced  gardens  of  Virginia  homes.  Charles- 
ton dames  vied  with  each  other  in  the  beauty  of 
their  gardens,  and  Mrs.  Logan,  when  seventy  years 
old,  in  1779,  wrote  a  treatise  called  The  Gardener  s 
Kalendar.  Eliza  Lucas  Pinckney  of  Charleston 
was  devoted  to  practical  floriculture  and  horticulture. 
Her  introduction  of  indigo  raising  into  South  Caro- 
lina revolutionized  the  trade  products  of  the  state 
and  brought  to  it  vast  wealth.  Like  many  other 
women  and  many  men  of  wealth  and  culture  at  that 
time,  she  kept  up  a  constant  exchange  of  letters, 
seeds,  plants,  and  bulbs  with  English  people  of  like 
tastes.  She  received  from  them  valuable  English 
seeds  and  shrubs ;  and  in  turn  she  sent  to  England 
what  were  so  eagerly  sought  by  English  flower 
raisers,  our  native  plants.  The  good  will  and  na- 
tional pride  of  ship  captains  were  enlisted;  even 
young  trees  of  considerable  size  were  set  in  hogs- 
heads, and  transported,  and  cared  for  during  the 
long  voyage. 

The  garden  at  Mount  Vernon  is  probably  the 
oldest  in  Virginia  still  in  original  shape.  In  Mary- 
land are  several  fine,  formal  gardens  which  do  not 
date,  however,  to  colonial  days ;  the  beautiful  one 
at  Hampton,  the  home  of  the  Ridgelys,  in  Balti- 


Colonial  Garden-making  15 

more  County,  is  shown  on  pages  57,  60  and  95. 
In  both  North  and  South  Carolina  the  gardens 
were  exquisite.  Many  were  laid  out  by  compe- 
tent landscape  gardeners,  and  were  kept  in  order 
by  skilled  workmen,  negro  slaves,  who  were  care- 
fully trained  from  childhood  to  special  labor,  such 


Gate  and  Hedge  of  Preston  Garden. 

as  topiary  work.  In  Camden  and  Charleston  the 
gardens  vied  with  the  finest  English  manor-house 
gardens.  Remains  of  their  beauty  exist,  despite  de- 
vastating wars  and  earthquakes.  Views  of  the  Pres- 
ton Garden,  Columbia,  South  Carolina,  are  shown 
on  pages  15  and  18  and  facing  page  54.  They 
are  now  the  grounds  of  the  Presbyterian  College 


i6  Old  Time  Gardens 

for  Women.  The  hedges  have  been  much  reduced 
within  a  few  years ;  but  the  garden  still  bears  a 
surprising  resemblance  to  the  Garden  of  the  Gen- 
eralife,  Granada.  The  Spanish  garden  has  fewer 
flowers  and  more  fountains,  yet  I  think  it  must 
have  been  the  model  for  the  Preston  Garden. 
The  climax  of  magnificence  in  Southern  gardens 
has  been  for  years,  at  Magnolia-on-the-Ashley, 
the  ancestral  home  of  the  Dray  tons  since  1671. 
It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  affluence  of  color 
in  this  garden  in  springtime ;  masses  of  unbroken 
bloom  on  giant  Magnolias;  vast  Camellia  Japonicas, 
looking,  leaf  and  flower,  thoroughly  artificial,  as 
if  made  of  solid  wax ;  splendid  Crape  Myrtles, 
those  strange  flower-trees;  mammoth  Rhododen- 
drons; Azaleas  of  every  Azalea  color,  —  all  sur- 
rounded by  walls  of  the  golden  Banksia  Roses,  and 
hedges  covered  with  Jasmine  and  Honeysuckle. 
The  Azaleas  are  the  special  glory  of  the  garden  ; 
the  bushes  are  fifteen  to  twenty  feet  in  height,  and 
fifty  or  sixty  feet  in  circumference,  with  rich  blos- 
soms running  over  and  crowding  down  on  the 
ground  as  if  color  had  been  poured  over  the  bushes  ; 
they  extend  in  vistas  of  vivid  hues  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  reach.  All  this  gay  and  brilliant  color  is  over- 
hung by  a  startling  contrast,  the  most  sombre  and 
gloomy  thing  in  nature,  great  Live-oaks  heavily 
draped  with  gray  Moss  ;  the  avenue  of  largest  Oaks 
was  planted  two  centuries  ago. 

I  give  no  picture  of  this  Drayton  Garden,  for  a 
photograph  of  these  many  acres  of  solid  bloom  is  a 
meaningless  thing.  Even  an  oil  painting  of  it  is 


Colonial  Garden-making  17 

confused  and  disappointing.  In  the  garden  itself 
the  excess  of  color  is  as  cloying  as  its  surfeit  of 
scent  pouring  from  the  thousands  of  open  flower 
cups  ;  we  long  for  green  hedges,  even  for  scanter 
bloom  and  for  fainter  fragrance.  It  is  not  a  garden 
to  live  in,  as  are  our  box-bordered  gardens  of  the 
North,  our  cheerful  cottage  borders,  and  our  well- 
balanced  Italian  gardens,  so  restful  to  the  eye;  it  is 
a  garden  to  look  at  and  wonder  at. 

The  Dutch  settlers  brought  their  love  of  flower- 
ing bulbs,  and  the  bulbs  also,  to  the  new  world. 
Adrian  Van  der  Donck,  a  gossiping  visitor  to  New 
Netherland  when  the  little  town  of  New  Amsterdam 
had  about  a  thousand  inhabitants,  described  the  fine 
kitchen  gardens,  the  vegetables  and  fruits,  and  gave 
an  interesting  list  of  garden  flowers  which  he  found 
under  cultivation  by  the  Dutch  vrouws.  He  says  : 

"  OF  THE  FLOWERS.  The  flowers  in  general  which  the 
Netherlanders  have  introduced  there  are  the  white  and  red 
roses  of  different  kinds,  the  cornelian  roses,  and  stock  roses ; 
and  those  of  which  there  were  none  before  in  the  country, 
such  as  eglantine,  several  kinds  of  gillyflowers,  jenoffelins, 
different  varieties  of  fine  tulips,  crown  imperials,  white 
lilies,  the  lily  frutularia,  anemones,  baredames,  violets,  mari- 
golds, summer  sots,  etc.  The  clove  tree  has  also  been 
introduced,  and  there  are  various  indigenous  trees  that 
bear  handsome  flowers,  which  are  unknown  in  the  Nether- 
lands. We  also  find  there  some  flowers  of  native  growth, 
as,  for  instance,  sunflowers,  red  and  yellow  lilies,  moun- 
tain lilies,  morning  stars,  red,  white,  and  yellow  maritoffles 
(a  very  sweet  flower),  several  species  of  bell  flowers,  etc., 
to  which  I  have  not  given  particular  attention,  but  amateurs 


i8 


Old  Time  Gardens 


would  hold  them  in  high  estimation  and  make  them  widely 
known." 

I  wish  I  knew  what  a  Cornelian  Rose  was,  and 
Jenoffelins,  Baredames,  and  Summer  Sots  ;  and 
what  the  Lilies  were  and  the  Maritoffles  and  Bell 
Flowers.  They  all  sound  so  cheerful  and  homelike 


Fountain  Path  in  Preston  Garden,  Columbia,  South  Carolina. 

— just  as  if  they  bloomed  welL  Perhaps  the  Cor- 
nelian Rose  may  have  been  striped  red  and  white 
like  cornelian  stone,  and  like  our  York  and  Lan- 
caster Rose. 

Tulips  are  on  all  seed  and  plant  lists  of  colonial 
days,  and  they  were  doubtless  in  every  home  door- 
yard  in  New  Netherland.  Governor  Peter  Stuy- 
vesant  had  a  fine  farm  on  the  Bouwerie,  and  is  said 


Colonial  Garden-making  19 

to  have  had  a  flower  garden  there  and  at  his  home, 
White  Hall,  at  the  Battery,  for  he  had  forty  or  fifty 
negro  slaves  who  were  kept  at  work  on  his  estate. 
In  the  city  of  New  York  many  fine  formal  gardens 
lingered,  on  what  are  now  our  most  crowded  streets, 
till  within  the  memory  of  persons  now  living.  One 
is  described  as  full  of  "  Paus  bloemen  of  all  hues, 
Laylocks,  and  tall  May  Roses  and  Snowballs  inter- 
mixed with  choice  vegetables  and  herbs  all  bounded 
and  hemmed  in  by  huge  rows  of  neatly-clipped  Box- 
edgings." 

An  evidence  of  increase  in  garden  luxury  in 
New  York  is  found  in  the  advertisement  of  one 
Theophilus  Hardenbrook,  in  1750,  a  practical  sur- 
veyor and  architect,  who  had  an  evening  school 
for  teaching  architecture.  He  designed  pavilions, 
summer-houses, and  garden  seats, and"  Green-houses 
for  the  preservation  of  Herbs  with  winding  Funnels 
through  the  walls  so  as  to  keep  them  warm."  A 
picture  of  the  green-house  of  James  Beekman,  of 
New  York,  1764,  still  exists,  a  primitive  little  affair. 
The  first  glass-house  in  North  America  is  believed 
to  be  one  built  in  Boston  for  Andrew  Faneuil,  who 
died  in  1737. 

Mrs.  Anne  Grant,  writing  of  her  life  near  Albany 
in  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  gives  a  very 
good  description  of  the  Schuyler  garden.  Skulls 
of  domestic  animals  on  fence  posts,  would  seem 
astounding  had  I  not  read  of  similar  decorations 
in  old  Continental  gardens.  Vines  grew  over  these 
grisly  fence-capitals  and  birds  built  their  nests  in 
them,  so  in  time  the  Dutch  housewife's  peaceful 


2O  Old  Time  Gardens 

kitchen  garden  ceased  to  resemble  the  kraal  of  an 
African  chieftain  ;  to  this  day,  in  South  Africa,  na- 
tives and  Dutch  Boers  thus  set  up  on  gate  posts  the 
skulls  of  cattle. 

Mrs.  Grant  writes  of  the  Dutch  in  Albany  :  — 

"  The  care  of  plants,  such  as  needed  peculiar  care  or 
skill  to  rear  them,  was  the  female  province.  Every  one  in 
town  or  country  had  a  garden.  Into  this  garden  no  foot  of 
man  intruded  after  it  was  dug  in  the  Spring.  I  think  I  see 
yet  what  I  have  so  often  beheld  —  a  respectable  mistress 
of  a  family  going  out  to  her  garden,  on  an  April  morning, 
with  her  great  calash,  her  little  painted  basket  of  seeds,  and 
her  rake  over  her  shoulder  to  her  garden  of  labours.  A 
woman  in  very  easy  circumstances  and  abundantly  gentle 
in  form  and  manners  would  sow  and  plant  and  rake  in- 
cessantly." 

We  have  happily  a  beautiful  example  of  the  old 
Dutch  manor  garden,  at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor,  at 
Croton-on-Hudson,  New  York,  still  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  Van  Cortlandt  family.  It  is  one  of  the 
few  gardens  in  America  that  date  "really  to  colonial 
days.  The  manor  house  was  built  in  1681  ;  it  is 
one  of  those  fine  old  Dutch  homesteads  of  which 
we  still  have  many  existing  throughout  New  York, 
in  which  dignity,  comfort,  and  fitness  are  so  hap- 
pily combined.  These  homes  are,  in  the  words  of 
a  traveller  of  colonial  days,  "  so  pleasant  in  their 
building,  and  contrived  so  delightful."  Above  all, 
they  are  so  suited  to  their  surroundings  that  they 
seem  an  intrinsic  part  of  the  landscape,  as  they  do 
of  the  old  life  of  this  Hudson  River  Valley. 


Door  in  Wall  of  Kitchen  Garden  at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor. 


Colonial  Garden-making  11 

I  do  not  doubt  that  this  Van  Cortlandt  garden 
was  laid  out  when  the  house  was  built ;  much  of  it 
must  be  two  centuries  old.  It  has  been  extended,  not 
altered ;  and  the  grass-covered  bank  supporting  the 
upper  garden  was  replaced  by  a  brick  terrace  wall 
about  sixty  years  ago.  Its  present  form  dates  to  the 
days  when  New  York  was  a  province.  The  upper 
garden  is  laid  out  in  formal  flower  beds ;  the  lower 
border  is  rich  in  old  vines  and  shrubs,  and  all  the 
beloved  old-time  hardy  plants.  There  is  in  the 
manor-house  an  ancient  portrait  of  the  child  Pierre 
Van  Cortlandt,  painted  about  the  year  1732.  He 
stands  by  a  table  bearing  a  vase  filled  with  old  gar- 
den flowers  —  Tulip,  Convolvulus,  Harebell,  Rose, 
Peony,  Narcissus,  and  Flowering  Almond ;  and  it 
is  the  pleasure  of  the  present  mistress  of  the  manor, 
to  see  that  the  garden  still  holds  all  the  great-grand- 
father's flowers. 

There  is  a  vine-embowered  old  door  in  the  wall 
under  the  piazza  (see  opposite  page  20)  which  opens 
into  the  kitchen  and  fruit  garden  ;  a  wall-door  so 
quaint  and  old-timey  that  I  always  remind  me  of 
Shakespeare's  lines  in  Measure  for  Measure :  — 

"  He  hath  a  garden  circummured  with  brick, 
Whose  western  side  is  with  a  Vineyard  back'd  ; 
And  to  that  Vineyard  is  a  planched  gate 
That  makes  his  opening  with  this  bigger  key  : 
The  other  doth  command  a  little  door 
Which  from  the  Vineyard  to  the  garden  leads." 

The  long  path  is  a  beautiful  feature  of  this  gar- 
den (it  is  shown  in  the  picture  of  the  garden  oppo- 


22  Old  Time  Gardens 

site  page  24) ;  it  dates  certainly  to  the  middle  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  Pierre  Van  Cortlandt,  the 
son  of  the  child  with  the  vase  of  flowers,  and  grand- 
father of  the  present  generation  bearing  his  surname, 
was  born  in  1762.  He  well  recalled  playing  along 
this  garden  path  when  he  was  a  child ;  and  that  one 
day  he  and  his  little  sister  Ann  (Mrs.  Philip  Van 
Rensselaer)  ran  a  race  along  this  path  and  through 
the  garden  to  see  who  could  first  "  see  the  baby  " 
and  greet  their  sister,  Mrs.  Beekman,  who  came 
riding  to  the  manor-house  up  the  hill  from  Tarry- 
town,  and  through  the  avenue,  which  shows  on  the 
right-hand  side  of  the  garden-picture.  This  beauti- 
ful young  woman  was  famed  everywhere  for  her 
grace  and  loveliness,  and  later  equally  so  for  her 
intelligence  and  goodness,  and  the  prominent  part 
she  bore  in  the  War  of  the  Revolution.  She  was 
seated  on  a  pillion  behind  her  husband,  and  she  car- 
ried proudly  in  her  arms  her  first  baby  (afterward 
Dr.  Beekman)  wrapped  in  a  scarlet  cloak.  This  is 
one  of  the  home-pictures  that  the  old  garden  holds. 
Would  we  could  paint  it ! 

In  this  garden,  near  the  house,  is  a  never  failing 
spring  and  well.  The  house  was  purposely  built 
near  it,  in  those  days  of  sudden  attacks  by  Ind- 
ians ;  it  has  proved  a  fountain  of  perpetual  youth 
for  the  old  Locust  tree,  which  shades  it;  a  tree  more 
ancient  than  house  or  garden,  serene  and  beauti- 
ful in  its  hearty  old  age.  Glimpses  of  this  manor- 
house  garden  and  its  flowers  are  shown  on  many 
pages  of  this  book,  but  they  cannot  reveal  its 
beauty  as  a  whole  —  its  fine,  proportions,  its  noble 


Colonial  Garden-making  23 

background,  its  splendid  trees,  its  turf,  its  beds  of 
bloom.  Oh  !  how  beautiful  a  garden  can  be,  when 
for  two  hundred  years  it  has  been  loved  and  cher- 
ished, ever  nurtured,  ever  guarded ;  how  plainly  it 
shows  such  care  ! 

Another  Dutch  garden  is  pictured  opposite  page 
32,  the  garden  of  the  Bergen  Homestead,  at  Bay 
Ridge,  Long  Island.  Let  me  quote  part  of  its 
description,  written  by  Mrs.  Tunis  Bergen:  — 

"  Over  the  half-open  Dutch  door  you  look  through  the 
vines  that  climb  about  the  stoop,  as  into  a  vista  of  the 
past.  Beyond  the  garden  is  the  great  Quince  orchard  of 
hundreds  of  trees  in  pink  and  white  glory.  This  orchard 
has  a  story  which  you  must  pause  in  the  garden  to  hear. 
In  the  Library  at  Washington  is  preserved,  in  quaint  man- 
uscript, '  The  Battle  of  Brooklyn,'  a  farce  written  and  said 
to  have  been  performed  during  the  British  occupation. 
The  scene  is  partly  laid  in  4  the  orchard  of  one  Bergen,' 
where  the  British  hid  their  horses  after  the  battle  of  Long 
Island  —  this  is  the  orchard  ;  but  the  blossoming  Quince 
trees  tell  no  tale  of  past  carnage.  At  one  side  of  the 
garden  is  a  quaint  little  building  with  moss-grown  roof  and 
climbing  hop-vine — the  last  slave  kitchen  left  standing  in 
New  York  —  on  the  other  side  are  rows  of  homely  bee- 
hives.' The  old  Locust  tree  overshadowing  is  an  ancient 
landmark  —  it  was  standing  in  1690.  For  some  years  it 
has  worn  a  chain  to  bind  its  aged  limbs  together.  All  this 
beauty  of  tree  and  flower  lived  till  1890,  when  it  was 
swept  away  by  the  growing  city.  Though  now  but  a 
memory,  it  has  the  perfume  of  its  past  flowers  about  it." 

The  Locust  was  so  often  a  "home  tree"  and  so 
fitting  a  one,  that  I  have  grown  to  associate  ever 


24  Old  Time  Gardens 

with  these  Dutch  homesteads  a  light-leaved  Locust 
tree,  shedding  its  beautiful  flickering  shadows  on 
the  long  roof.  I  wonder  whether  there  was  any 
association  or  tradition  that  made  the  Locust  the 
house-friend  in  old  New  York  ! 

The  first  nurseryman  in  the  new  world  was 
stern  old  Governor  Endicott  of  Salem.  In  1644 
he  wrote  to  Governor  Winthrop,  "  My  children 
burnt  mee  at  least  500  trees  by  setting  the  ground 
on  fire  neere  them  "  —  which  was  a  very  pretty  piece 
of  mischief  for  sober  Puritan  children.  We  find  all 
thoughtful  men  of  influence  and  prominence  in  all 
the  colonies  raising  various  fruits,  and  selling  trees 
and  plants,  but  they  had  no  independent  business 
nurseries. 

If  tradition  be  true,  it  is  to  Governor  Endicott 
we  owe  an  indelible  dye  on  the  landscape  of  eastern 
Massachusetts  in  midsummer.  The  Dyer's-weed 
or  Woad-waxen  (Genista  tinctoria],  which,  in  July, 
covers  hundreds  of  acres  in  Lynn,  Salem,  Swamp- 
scott,  and  Beverly  with  its  solid  growth  and  brill- 
iant yellow  bloom,  is  said  to  have  been  brought  to 
this  country  as  the  packing  of  some  of  the  gov- 
ernor's household  belongings.  It  is  far  more  prob- 
able that  he  brought  it  here  to  raise  it  in  his  garden 
for  dyeing  purposes,  with  intent  to  benefit  the  col- 
ony, as  he  did  other  useful  seeds  and  plants.  Woad- 
waxen,  or  Broom,  is  a  persistent  thing ;  it  needs 
scythe,  plough,  hoe,  and  bitter  labor  to  eradicate 
it.  I  cannot  call  it  a  weed,  for  it  has  seized  only 
poor  rock-filled  land,  good  for  naught  else ;  and  the 
radiant  beauty  of  the  Salem  landscape  for  many 


Colonial  Garden-making  25 

weeks  makes  us  forgive  its  persistence,  and  thank 
Endicott  for  bringing  it  here. 

"  The  Broom, 

Full-flowered  and  visible  on  every  steep, 
Along  the  copses  runs  in  veins  of  gold." 

The  Broom  flower  is  the  emblem  of  mid-summer, 
the  hottest  yellow  flower  I  know  —  it  seems  to  throw 
out  heat.  I  recall  the  first  time  I  saw  it  growing ;  I 
was  told  that  it  was  "  Salem  Wood-wax."  I  had 
heard  of  "  Roxbury  Waxwork,"  the  Bitter-sweet,  but 
this  was  a  new  name,  as  it  was  a  new  tint  of  yellow, 
and  soon  I  had  its  history,  for  I  find  Salem  people 
rather  proud  both  of  the  flower  and  its  story. 

Oxeye  Daisies  (Whiteweed)  are  also  by  vague  tra- 
dition the  children  of  Governor  Endicott's  planting. 
I  think  it  far  more  probable  that  they  were  planted 
and  cherished  by  the  wives  of  the  colonists,  when 
their  beloved  English  Daisies  were  found  unsuited 
to  New  England's  climate  and  soil.  We  note  the 
Woad-waxen  and  Whiteweed  as  crowding  usurpers, 
not  only  because  they  are  persistent,  but  because 
their  great  expanses  of  striking  bloom  will  not  let 
us  forget  them.  Many  other  English  plants  are 
just  as  determined  intruders,  but  their  modest  dress 
permits  them  to  slip  in  comparatively  unobserved. 

It  has  ever  been  characteristic  of  the  British  colo- 
nist to  carry  with  him  to  any  new  home  the  flowers 
of  old  England  and  Scotland,  and  characteristic 
of  these  British  flowers  to  monopolize  the  earth. 
Sweetbrier  is  called  "  the  missionary-plant,"  by 
the  Maoris  in  New  Zealand,  and  is  there  regarded 


26  Old  Time  Gardens 

< 

as  a  tiresome  weed,  spreading  and  holding  the 
ground.  Some  homesick  missionary  or  his  more 
homesick  wife  bore  it  there  ;  and  her  love  of  the 
home  plant  impressed  even  the  savage  native.  We 
all  know  the  story  of  the  Scotch  settlers  who  car- 
ried their  beloved  Thistles  to  Tasmania  "  to  make 
it  seem  like  home,"  and  how  they  lived  to  regret 
it.  Vancouver's  Island  is  completely  overrun  with 
Broom  and  wild  Roses  from  England. 

The  first  commercial  nursery  in  America,  in  the 
sense  of  the  term  as  we  now  employ  it,  was  estab- 
lished about  1730  by  Robert  Prince,  in  Flushing, 
Long  Island,  a  community  chiefly  of  French  Hu- 
guenot settlers,  who  brought  to  the  new  world  many 
French  fruits  by  seed  and  cuttings,  and  also  a  love  of 
horticulture.  For  over  a  century  and  a  quarter  these 
Prince  Nurseries  were  the  leading  ones  in  Amer- 
ica. The  sale  of  fruit  trees  was  increased  in  1774 
(as  we  learn  from  advertisements  in  the  New  York 
Mercury  of  that  year),  by  the  sale  of  "Carolina 
Magnolia  flower  trees,  the  most  beautiful  trees  that 
grow  in  America,  and  50  large  Catalpa  flower  trees  ; 
they  are  nine  feet  high  to  the  under  part  of  the  top 
and  thick  as  one's  leg,"  also  other  flowering  trees 
and  shrubs. 

The  fine  house  built  on  the  nursery  grounds  by 
William  Prince  suffered  little  during  the  Revolu- 
tion. It  was  occupied  by  Washington  and  after- 
wards house  and  nursery  were  preserved  from 
depredations  by  a  guard  placed  by  General  Howe 
when  the  British  took  possession  of  Flushing.  Of 
course,  domestic  nursery  business  waned  in  time  of 


Colonial  Garden-making  27 

war ;  but  an  excellent  demand  for  American  shrubs 
and  trees  sprung  up  among  the  officers  of  the  British 
army,  to  send  home  to  gardens  in  England  and  Ger- 
many. Many  an  English  garden  still  has  ancient 
plants  and  trees  from  the  Prince  Nurseries. 

The  "  Linnaean  Botanic  Garden  and  Nurseries  " 
and  the  "  Old  American  Nursery "  thrived  once 
more  at  the  close  of  the  war,  and  William  Prince 
the  second  entered  in  charge ;  one  of  his  earliest 
ventures  of  importance  was  the  introduction  of 
Lombardy  Poplars.  In  1798  he  advertises  ten 
thousand  trees,  ten  to  seventeen  feet  in  height. 
These  became  the  most  popular  tree  in  America, 
the  emblem  of  democracy  —  and  a  warmly  hated 
tree  as  well.  The  eighty  acres  of  nursery  grounds 
were  a  centre  of  botanic  and  horticultural  interest 
for  the  entire  country  ;  every  tree,  shrub,  vine,  and 
plant  known  to  England  and  America  was  eagerly 
sought  for;  here  the  important  botanical  treasures 
of  Lewis  and  Clark  found  a  home.  William  Prince 
wrote  several  notable  horticultural  treatises ;  and 
even  his  trade  catalogues  were  prized.  He  estab- 
lished the  first  steamboats  between  Flushing  and 
New  York,  built  roads  and  bridges  on  Long  Isl- 
and, and  was  a  public-spirited,  generous  citizen 
as  well  as  a  man  of  science.  His  son,  William 
Robert  Prince,  who  died  in  1869,  was  the  last  to 
keep  up  the  nurseries,  which  he  did  as  a  scientific 
rather  than  a  commercial  establishment.  He  bota- 
nized the  entire  length  of  the  Atlantic  States  with 
Dr.  Torrey,  and  sought  for  collections  of  trees  and 
wild  flowers  in  California  with  the  same  eagerness 


28  Old  Time  Gardens 

that  others  there  sought  gold.  He  was  a  devoted 
promoter  of  the  native  silk  industry,  having  vast 
plantations  of  Mulberries  in  many  cities ;  for  one 
at  Norfolk,  Virginia,  he  was  offered  $  100,000.  It 
is  a  curious  fact  that  the  interest  in  Mulberry  cul- 
ture and  the  practice  of  its  cultivation  was  so  uni- 


Garden  at  Prince  Homestead,  Flushing,  Long  Island. 

versal  in  his  neighborhood  (about  the  year  1830), 
that  cuttings  of  the  Chinese  Mulberry  (Morus  multi- 
caulls]  were  used  as  currency  in  all  the  stores  in  the 
vicinity  of  Flushing,  at  the  rate  of  12^  cents  each. 

The  Prince  homestead,  a  fine  old  mansion,  is 
here  shown  ;  it  is  still  standing,  surrounded  by  that 
forlorn  sight,  a  forgotten  garden.  This  is  of  con- 
siderable extent,  and  evidences  of  its  past  dignity 


Colonial  Garden-making  29 

appear  in  the  hedges  and  edgings  of  Box ;  one 
symmetrical  great  Box  tree  is  fifty  feet  in  circumfer- 
ence. Flowering  shrubs,  unkempt  of  shape,  bloom 
and  beautify  the  waste  borders  each  spring,  as  do  the 
oldest  Chinese  Magnolias  in  the  United  States. 
Gingkos,  Paulownias,  and  weeping  trees,  which  need 
no  gardener's  care>  also  flourish  and  are  of  unusual 
size.  There  are  some  splendid  evergreens,  such  as 
Mt.  Atlas  Cedars ;  and  the  oldest  and  finest  Cedar 
of  Lebanon  in  the  United  States.  It  seemed  sad, 
as  I  looked  at  the  evidences  of  so  much  past  beauty 
and  present  decay,  that  this  historic  house  and  gar- 
den should  not  be  preserved  for  New  York,  as  the 
house  and  garden  of  John  Bartram,  the  Philadelphia 
botanist,  have  been  for  his  native  city. 

While  there  are  few  direct  records  of  American 
gardens  in  the  eighteenth  century,  we  have  many  in- 
structing side  glimpses  through  old  business  letter- 
books.  We  find  Sir  Harry  Frankland  ordering 
Daffodils  and  Tulips  for  the  garden  he  made  for 
Agnes  Surriage ;  and  it  is  said  that  the  first  Lilacs 
ever  seen  in  Hopkinton  were  planted  by  him  for 
her.  The  gay  young  nobleman  and  the  lovely 
woman  are  in  the  dust,  and  of  all  the  beautiful 
things  belonging  to  them  there  remain  a  splendid 
Portuguese  fan,  which  stands  as  a  memorial  of  that 
tragic  crisis  in  their  life  —  the  great  Lisbon  earth- 
quake ;  and  the  Lilacs,  which  still  mark  the  site  of 
her  house  and  blossom  each  spring  as  a  memorial  of 
the  shadowed  romance  of  her  life  in  New  England. 

Let  me  give  two  pages  from  old  letters  to  illus- 
trate what  I  mean  by  side  glimpses  at  the  contents 


jo  Old  Time  Gardens 

of  colonial  gardens.  The  fine  Hancock  mansion  in 
Boston  had  a  carefully-filled  garden  long  previous 
to  the  Revolution.  Such  letters  as  the  following 
were  sent  by  Mr.  Hancock  to  England  to  secure 
flowers  for  it :  — 

"  My  Trees  and  Seeds  for  Capt.  Bennett  Came  Safe  to 
Hand  and  I  like  them  very  well.  I  Return  you  my  hearty 
Thanks  for  the  Plumb  Tree  and  Tulip  Roots  you  were 
pleased  to  make  me  a  Present  off,  which  are  very  Accep- 
table to  me.  I  have  Sent  my  friend  Mr.  Wilks  a  mmo. 
to  procure  for  me  2  or  3  Doz.  Yew  Trees,  Some  Hollys 
and  Jessamine  Vines,  and  if  you  have  Any  Particular  Curious 
Things  not  of  a  high  Price,  will  Beautifye  a  flower  Garden 
Send  a  Sample  with  the  Price  or  a  Catalogue  of  'em,  I  do 
not  intend  to  spare  Any  Cost  or  Pains  in  making  my 
Gardens  Beautifull  or  Profitable. 

"  P.S.  The  Tulip  Roots  you  were  Pleased  to  make  a 
present  off  to  me  are  all  Dead  as  well." 

We  find  Richard  Stockton  writing  in  1766 
from  England  to  his  wife  at  their  beautiful  home 
"  Morven,"  in  Princeton,  New  Jersey  :  — 

11 1  am  making  you  a  charming  collection  of  bulbous  roots, 
which  shall  be  sent  over  as  soon  as  the  prospect  of  freezing 
on  your  coast  is  over.  The  first  of  April,  I  believe,  will  be 
time  enough  for  you  to  put  them  in  your  sweet  little  flower 
garden,  which  you  so  fondly  cultivate.  Suppose  I  inform 
you  that  I  design  a  ride  to  Twickenham  the  latter  end  of 
next  month  principally  to  view  Mr.  Pope's  gardens  and 
grotto,  which  I  am  told  remain  nearly  as  he  left  them  ; 
and  that  I  shall  take  with  me  a  gentleman  who  draws  well, 
to  lay  down  an  exact  plan  of  the  whole." 


Colonial  Garden-making  31 

The  fine  line  of  Catalpa  trees  set  out  by  Richard 
Stockton,  along  the  front  of  his  lawn,  were  in  full 
flower  when  he  rode  up  to  his  house  on  a  memor- 
able July  day  to  tell  his  wife  that  he  had  signed 
the  Declaration  of  American  Independence.  Since 
then  Catalpa  trees  bear  everywhere  in  that  vicinity 


Old  Box  at  Prince  Homestead. 


the  name  of  Independence  trees,  and  are  believed 
to  be  ever  in  bloom  on  July  4th. 

In  the  delightful  diary  and  letters  of  Eliza  South- 
gate  Bowne  (A  Girl's  Life  Eighty  Years  Ago],  are 
other  side  glimpses  of  the  beautiful  gardens  of  old 
Salem,  among  them  those  of  the  wealthy  mer- 
chants of  the  Derby  family.  Terraces  and  arches 


32  Old  Time  Gardens 

show  a  formality  of  arrangement,  for  they  were  laid 
out  by  a  Dutch  gardener  whose  descendants  still 
live  in  Salem.  All  had  summer-houses,  which  were 
larger  and  more  important  buildings  than  what  are 
to-day  termed  summer-houses  ;  these  latter  were 
known  in  Salem  and  throughout  Virginia  as  bowers. 
One  summer-house  had  an  arch  through  it  with  three 
doors  on  each  side  which  opened  into  little  apart- 
ments ;  one  of  them  had  a  staircase  by  which  you 
could  ascend  into  a  large  upper  room,  which  was  the 
whole  size  of  the  building.  This  was  constructed 
to  command  a  fine  view,  and  was  ornamented  with 
Chinese  articles  of  varied  interest  and  value ;  it  was 
used  for  tea-drinkings.  At  the  end  of  the  garden, 
concealed  by  a  dense  Weeping  Willow,  was  a  thatched 
hermitage,  containing  the  life-size  figure  of  a  man 
reading  a  prayer-book ;  a  bed  of  straw  and  some 
broken  furniture  completed  the  picture.  This  was 
an  English  fashion,  seen  at  one  time  in  many  old 
English  gardens,  and  held  to  be  most  romantic. 
Apparently  summer  evenings  were  spent  by  the 
Derby  household  and  their  visitors  wholly  in  the 
garden  and  summer-house.  The  diary  keeper  writes 
naively,  "  The  moon  shines  brighter  in  this  garden 
than  anywhere  else." 

The  shrewd  and  capable  women  of  the  colonies 
who  entered  so  freely  and  successfully  into  business 
ventures  found  the  selling  of  flower  seeds  a  con- 
genial occupation,  and  often  added  it  to  the  pursuit 
of  other  callings.  I  think  it  must  have  been  very 
pleasant  to  buy  packages  of  flower  seed  at  the  same 
time  and  place  where  you  bought  your  best  bonnet, 


Colonial  Garden-making 


33 


and  have  all  sent  home  in  a  bandbox  together ;  each 
would  prove  a  memorial  of  the  other ;  and  long 
after  the  glory  of  the  bonnet  had  departed,  and  the 
bonnet  itself  was  ashes,  the  thriving  Sweet  Peas  and 
Larkspur  would  recall  its  becoming  charms.  I  have 
often  seen  the  advertisements  of  these  seedswomen 
in  old  newspapers  ;  unfortunately  they  seldom  gave 
printed  lists  of  their  store  of  seeds.  Here  is  one 
list  printed  in  a  Boston  newspaper  on  March  30, 
1760:  — 


Lavender. 
Palma  Christi. 
Cerinthe  or  Honeywort, 

loved  of  bees. 
Tricolor. 
Indian  Pink. 
Scarlet  Cacalia. 
Yellow  Sultans. 
Lemon  African  Marigold. 
Sensitive  Plants. 
White  Lupine. 
Love  Lies  Bleeding. 
Patagonian  Cucumber. 
Lobelia. 
Catchfly. 
Wing-peas. 
Convolvulus. 
Strawberry  Spinage. 
Branching  Larkspur. 
White  Chrysanthemum. 
Nigaella  Romano. 
Rose  Campion. 
Snap  Dragon. 


Nolana  prostrata. 
Summer  Savory. 
Hyssop. 

Red  Hawkweed. 
Red  and  White  Lavater. 
Scarlet  Lupine. 
Large  blue  Lupine. 
Snuff  flower. 
Caterpillars. 
Cape  Marigold. 
Rose  Lupine. 
Sweet  Peas. 
Venus'  Navelwort. 
Yellow  Chrysanthemum. 
Cyanus  minor. 
Tall  Holyhock. 
French  Marigold. 
Carnation  Poppy. 
Globe  Amaranthus. 
Yellow  Lupine. 
Indian  Branching  Cox- 
combs. 
Iceplants. 


34  Old  Time  Gardens 

Thyme.  Sweet  William. 

Sweet  Marjoram.  Honesty  (to  be  sold  in  small 

Tree  Mallows.  parcels  that  every  one  may 

Everlasting.  have  a  little). 

Greek  Valerian.  Persicaria. 

Tree  Primrose.  Polyanthos. 

Canterbury  Bells.  50  Different  Sorts  of  mixed 

Purple  Stock.  Tulip  Roots. 

Sweet  Scabiouse.  Ranunculus 

Columbine.  Gladiolus. 

Pleasant-eyed  Pink.  Starry  Scabiouse. 

Dwarf  Mountain  Pink.  Curled  Mallows. 

Sweet  Rocket.  Painted  Lady  topknot  peas. 

Horn  Poppy.  Colchicum. 

French  Honeysuckle.  Persian  Iris. 

Bloody  Wallflower.  Star  Bethlehem. 

This  list  is  certainly  a  pleasing  one.  It  gives 
opportunity  for  flower  borders  of  varied  growth  and 
rich  color.  There  is  a  quality  of  some  minds 
which  may  be  termed  historical  imagination.  It  is 
the  power  of  shaping  from  a  few  simple  words  or 
details  of  the  faraway  past,  an  ample  picture,  full 
of  light  and  life,  of  which  these  meagre  details  are 
but  a  framework.  Having  this  list  of  the  names 
of  these  sturdy  old  annuals  and  perennials,  what  do 
you  perceive  besides  the  printed  words  ?  I  see  that 
the  old  mid-century  garden  where  these  seeds  found 
a  home  was  a  cheerful  place  from  earliest  spring  to 
autumn  ;  that  it  had  many  bulbs,  and  thereafter  a 
constant  succession  of  warm  blooms  till  the  Cox- 
combs, Marigolds,  Colchicums  and  Chrysanthe- 
mums yielded  to  New  England's  frosts.  I  know 


Cojonial  Garden-making 


35 


that  the  garden  had  beehives  and  that  the  bees 
were  loved ;  for  when  they  sallied  out  of  their  straw 
bee-skepes,  these  happy  bees  found  their  favorite 
blossoms  planted  to  welcome  them  :  Cerinthe,  drop- 
ping with  honey;  Cacalia,  a  sister  flower;  Lupine, 
Larkspur,  Sweet  Marjoram,  and  Thyme  —  I  can 


Old  Garden  at  Duck  Cove  Farm  in  Narragansett. 

taste  the  Thyme-scented  classic  honey  from  that 
garden  !  There  was  variety  of  foliage  as  well  as 
bloom,  the  dovelike  Lavender,  the  glaucous  Horned 
Poppy,  the  glistening  Iceplants,  the  dusty  Rose 
Campion. 

Stately  plants  grew  from  the  little  seed-packets  ; 
Hollyhocks,  Valerian,  Canterbury  Bells,  Tree  Prim- 
roses looked  down  on  the  low-growing  herbs  of  the 


36  Old  Time  Gardens 

border ;  and  there  were  vines  of  Convolvulus  and 
Honeysuckle.  It  was  a  garden  overhung  by  clouds 
of  perfume  from  Thyme,  Lavender,  Sweet  Peas, 
Pleasant-eyed  Pink,  and  Stock.  The  garden's  mis- 
tress looked  well  after  her  household  ;  ample  store 
of  savory  pot  herbs  grow  among  the  finer  blossoms. 

It  was  a  garden  for  children  to  play  in.  I  can  see 
them  ;  little  boys  with  their  hair  tied  in  queues,  in 
knee  breeches  and  flapped  coats  like  their  stately 
fathers,  running  races  down  the  garden  path,  as  did 
the  Van  Cortlandt  children  ;  and  demure  little  girls 
in  caps  and  sacques  and  aprons,  sitting  in  cubby 
houses  under  the  Lilac  bushes.  '  I  know  what  flowers 
they  played  with  and  how  they  played,  for  they  were 
my  great-grandmothers  and  grandfathers,  and  they 
played  exactly  what  I  did,  and  sang  what  I  did  when 
I  was  a  child  in  a  garden.  And  suddenly  my  picture 
expands,  as  a  glow  of  patriotic  interest  thrills  me  in 
the  thought  that  in  this  garden  were  sheltered  and 
amused  the  boys  of  one  hundred  and  forty  years 
ago,  who  became  the  heroes  of  our  American  Revo- 
lution ;  and  the  girls  who  were  Daughters  of  Lib- 
erty, who  spun  and  wove  and  knit  for  their  soldiers, 
and  drank  heroically  their  miserable  Liberty  tea.  I 
fear  the  garden  faded  when  bitter  war  scourged 
the  land,  when  the  women  turned  from  their  flower 
beds  to  the  plough  and  the  field,  since  their  brothers 
and  husbands  were  on  the  frontier. 

But  when  that  winter  of  gloom  to  our  country 
and  darkness  to  the  garden  was  ended,  the  flowers 
bloomed  still  more  brightly,  and  to  the  cheerful  seed- 
lings of  the  old  garden  is  now  given  perpetual  youth 


Colonial  Garden-making  37 

and  beauty  ;  they  are  fated  never  to  grow  faded  or 
neglected  or  sad,  but  to  live  and  blossom  and  smile 
forever  in  the  sunshine  of  our  hearts  through  the 
magic  power  of  a  few  printed  words  in  a  time-worn 
old  news-sheet. 


CHAPTER   II 


FRONT    DOORYARDS 

"  There  are  few  of  us  who  cannot  remember  a  front  yard  garden 
which  seemed  to  us  a  very  paradise  in  childhood.  Whether  the 
house  was  a  fine  one  and  the  enclosure  spacious,  or  whether  it  was  a 
small  house  with  only  a  narrow  bit  of  ground  in  front,  the  yard  was 
kept  with  care,  and  was  different  from  the  rest  of  the  land  altogether. 
.  .  .  People  do  not  know  what  they  lose  when  they  make  way 
with  the  reserve,  the  separateness,  the  sanctity,  of  the  front  yard 
of  their  grandmothers.  It  is  like  writing  down  family  secrets  for  any 
one  to  read ;  it  is  like  having  everybody  call  you  by  your  first  name, 
or  sitting  in  any  pew  in  church." 

—  Country  Byways,  SARAH   ORNE  JEWETT,  1881. 

LD  New  England  villages  and 
small  towns  and  well-kept  New 
England  farms  had  universally 
a  simple  and  pleasing  -form  of 
garden  called  the  front  yard  or 
front  dooryard.  A  few  still 
may  be  seen  in  conservative 
communities  in  the  New  England  states  and  in 
New  York  or  Pennsylvania.  I  saw  flourishing 
ones  this  summer  in  Gloucester,  Marblehead,  and 
Ipswich.  Even  where  the  front  yard  was  but  a 
narrow  strip  of  land  before  a  tiny  cottage,  it  was 
carefully  fenced  in,  with  a  gate  that  was  kept  rigidly 
closed  and  latched.  There  seemed  to  be  a  law 
38 


Front  Dooryards 


39 


which  shaped  and  bounded  the  front  yard ;  the 
side  fences  extended  from  the  corners  of  the  house 
to  the  front  fence  on  the  edge  of  the  road,  and 
thus  formed  naturally  the  guarded  parallelogram. 
Often  the  fence  around  the  front  yard  was  the 
only  one  on  the  farm ;  everywhere  else  were  boun- 
daries of  great  stone  walls ;  or  if  there  were  rail 


The  Flowering  Almond  under  the  Window. 

fences,  the  front  yard   fence  was  the  only  painted 
I   cannot  doubt  that   the    first  gardens  that 


one. 


our  foremothers  had,  which  were  wholly  of  flower- 
ing plants,  were  front  yards,  little  enclosures  hard 
won  from  the  forest. 

The  word  yard,  not  generally  applied  now  to  any 
enclosure  of  elegant  cultivation,  comes  from  the 
same  root  as  the  word  garden.  Garth  is  another 


40  Old  Time  Gardens 

derivative,  and  the  word  exists  much  disguised  in 
orchard.  In  the  sixteenth  century  yard  was  used 
in  formal  literature  instead  of  garden ;  and  later 
Burns  writes  of"  Eden's  bonnie  yard,  Where  yeuth- 
ful  lovers  first  were  pair'd." 

This  front  yard  was  an  English  fashion  derived 
from  the  forecourt  so  strongly  advised  by  Gervayse 
Markham  (an  interesting  old  English  writer  on  flori- 
culture and  husbandry),  and  found  in  front  of  many 
a  yeoman's  house,  and  many  a  more  pretentious 
house  as  well  in  Markham's  day.  Forecourts  were 
common  in  England  until  the  middle  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  and  may  still  be  seen.  The  fore- 
court gave  privacy  to  the  house  even  when  in  the 
centre  of  a  town.  Its  readoption  is  advised  with 
handsome  dwellings  in  England,  where  ground-space 
is  limited,  —  and  why  not  in  America,  too? 

The  front  yard  was  sacred  to  the  best  beloved,  or 
at  any  rate  the  most  honored,  garden  flowers  of  the 
house  mistress,  and  was  preserved  by  its  fences  from 
inroads  of  cattle,  which  then  wandered  at  their  will 
and  were  not  housed,  or  even  enclosed  at  night. 
The  flowers  were  often  of  scant  variety,  but  were 
those  deemed  the  gentlefolk  of  the  flower  world. 
There  was  a  clump  of  Daffodils  and  of  the  Poet's 
Narcissus  in  early  spring,  and  stately  Crown  Impe- 
rial; usually,  too,  a  few  scarlet  and  yellow  single 
Tulips,  and  Grape  Hyacinths.  Later  came  Phlox 
in  abundance  —  the  only  native  American  plant, — 
Canterbury  Bells,  and  ample  and  glowing  London 
Pride.  Of  course  there  were  great  plants  of  white 
and  blue  Day  Lilies,  with  their  beautiful  and  decora- 


Front  Dooryards  41 

tive  leaves,  and  purple  and  yellow  Flower  de  Luce. 
A  few  old-fashioned  shrubs  always  were  seen.  By 
inflexible  law  there  must  be  a  Lilac,  which  might 
be  the  aristocratic  Persian  Lilac.  A  Syringa,  a  flow- 
ering Currant,  or  Strawberry  bush  made  sweet  the 
front,  yard  in  spring,  and  sent  wafts  of  fragrance  into 


Peter's  Wreath. 

the  house-windows.  Spindling,  rusty  Snowberry 
bushes  were  by  the  gate,  and  Snowballs  also,  or  our 
native  Viburnums.  Old  as  they  seem,  the  Spiraeas 
and  Deutzias  came  to  us  in  the  nineteenth  century 
from  Japan ;  as  did  the  flowering  Quinces  and 
Cherries.  The  pink  Flowering  Almond  dates  back 
to  the  oldest  front  yards  (see  page  39),  and  Peter's 
Wreath  certainly  seems  an  old  settler  and  is  found 


42  Old  Time  Gardens 

now  in  many  front  yards  that  remain.  The  lovely 
full-flowered  shrub  of  Peter's  Wreath,  on  page  41, 
which  was  photographed  for  this  book,  was  all  that 
remained  of  a  once-loved  front  yard. 

The  glory  of  the  front  yard  was  the  old-fashioned 
early  red  "  Piny,"  cultivated  since  the  days  of  Pliny. 
I  hear  people  speaking  of  it  with  contempt  as  a 
vulgar  flower,  —  flaunting  is  the  conventional 
derogatory  adjective,  —  but  I  glory  in  its  flaunting. 
The  modern  varieties,  of  every  tint  from  white 
through  flesh  color,  coral,  pink,  ruby  color,  salmon, 
and  even  yellow,  to  deep  red,  are  as  beautiful  as 
Roses.  Some  are  sweet-scented;  and  they  have  no 
thorns,  and  their  foliage  is  ever  perfect,  so  I  am  sure 
the  Rose  is  jealous. 

I  am  as  fond  of  the  Peony  as  are  the  Chinese, 
among  whom  it  is  flower  queen.  It  is  by  them  re- 
garded as  an  aristocratic  flower;  and  in  old  New  Eng- 
land towns  fine  Peony  plants  in  an  old  garden  are  a 
pretty  good  indication  of  the  residence  of  what  Dr. 
Holmes  called  New  England  Brahmins.  In  Salem 
and  Portsmouth  are  old  "  Pinys  "  that  have  a  hun- 
dred blossoms  at  a  time  —  a  glorious  sight.  A 
Japanese  name  is  "  Flower-of-prosperity  "  ;  another 
name,  "  Plant-of-twenty-days,"  because  its  glories 
last  during  that  period  of  time. 

Rhododendrons  are  to  the  modern  garden  what 
the  Peony  was  in  the  old-fashioned  flower  border  ; 
and  I  am  glad  the  modern  flower  cannot  drive  the 
old  one  out.  They  are  equally  varied  in  coloring, 
but  the  Peony  is  a  much  hardier  plant,  and  I  like 
it  far  better.  It  has  no  blights,  no  bugs,  no  dis- 


Front  Dooryards  43 

eases,  no  running  out,  no  funguses  ;  it  doesn't  have 
to  be  covered  in  winter,  and  it  will  bloom  in  the 
shade.  No  old-time  or  modern  garden  is  to  me 
fully  furnished  without  Peonies ;  see  how  fair  they 
are  in  this  Salem  garden.  I  would  grow  them  in 
some  corner  of  the  garden  for  their  splendid  healthy 
foliage  if  they  hadn't  a  blossom.  The  P<eonia 
tenmfolia  in  particular  has  exquisite  feathery  foliage. 
The  great  Tree  Peony,  which  came  from  China, 
grows  eight  feet  or  more  in  height,  and  is  a  triumph 
of  the  flower  world ;  but  it  was  not  known  to  the 
oldest  front  yards.  Some  of  the  Tree  Peonies  have 
finely  displayed  leafage  of  a  curious  and  very  grati- 
fying tint  of  green.  Miss  Jelcyll,  with  her  usual 
felicity,  compares  its  blue  cast  with  pinkish  shad- 
ing to  the  vari-colored  metal  alloys  of  the  Japanese 
bronze  workers  —  a  striking  comparison.  The 
single  Peonies  of  recent  years  are  of  great  beauty, 
and  will  soon  be  esteemed  here  as  in  China. 

Not  the  least  of  the  Peony's  charms  is  its 
exceeding  trimness  and  cleanliness.  The  plants 
always  look  like  a  well-dressed,  well-shod,  well- 
gloved  girl  of  birth,  breeding,  and  of  equal  good 
taste  and  good  health ;  a  girl  who  can  swim,  and 
skate,  and  ride,  and  play  golf.  Every  inch  has  a 
well-set,  neat,  cared-for  look  which  the  shape  and 
growth  of  the  plant  keeps  from  seeming  artificial  or 
finicky.  See  the  white  Peony  on  page  44  ;  is  it  not 
a  seemly,  comely  thing,  as  well  as  a  beautiful  one  ? 

No  flower  can  be  set  in  our  garden  of  more  dis- 
tinct antiquity  than  the  Peony ;  the  Greeks  be- 
lieved it  to  be  of  divine  origin.  A  green  arbor 


44 


Old  Time  Gardens 


of  the  fourteenth  century  in  England  is  described 
as  set  around  with  Gillyflower,  Tansy,  Cromwell, 
and  "  Pyonys  powdered  ay  betwene  "  — just  as  I 
like  to  see  Peonies  set  to  this  day,  "  powdered " 


White  Peonies. 

everywhere    between   all   the  other  flowers    of  the 
border. 

I  am  pleased  to  note  of  the  common  flowers  of 
the  New  England  front  yard,  that  they  are  no  new 
things;  they  are  nearly  all  Elizabethan  of  date  — 
many  are  older  still.  Lord  Bacon  in  his  essay  on 
gardens  names  many  of  them,  Crocus,  Tulip,  Hya- 


Front  Dooryards  45 

cinth,  Daffodil,  Flower  de  Luce,  double  Peony, 
Lilac,  Lily  of  the  Valley. 

A  favorite  flower  was  the  yellow  garden  Lily,  the 
Lemon  Lily,  Hcmerocallis,  when  it  could  be  kept 
from  spreading.  Often  its  unbounded  luxuriance 
exiled  it  from  the  front  yard  to  the  kitchen  door- 
yard,  as  befell  the  clump  shown  facing  page  48. 
Its  pretty  old-fashioned  name  was  Liricon-fancy, 
given,  I  am  told,  in  England  to  the  Lily  of  the 
Valley.  I  know  no  more  satisfying  sight  than  a 
good  bank  of  these  Lemon  Lilies  in  full  flower. 
Below  Flatbush  there  used  to  be  a  driveway  lead- 
ing to  an  old  Dutch  house,  set  at  regular  inter- 
vals with  great  clumps  of  Lemon  Lilies,  and  their 
full  bloom  made  them  glorious.  Their  power  of 
satisfactory  adaptation  in  our  modern  formal  gar- 
den is  happily  shown  facing  page  76,  in  the  lovely 
garden  of  Charles  E.  Mather,  Esq.,  in  Haverford, 
Pennsylvania. 

The  time  of  fullest  inflorescence  of  the  nineteenth 
century  front  yard  was  when  Phlox  and  Tiger  Lilies 
bloomed  ;  but  the  pinkish-orange  colors  of  the  lat- 
ter (the  oddest  reds  of  any  flower  tints)  blended 
most  vilely  and  rampantly  with  the  crimson-purple 
of  the  Phlox ;  and  when  London  Pride  joined 
with  its  glowing  scarlet,  the  front  yard  fairly 
ached.  Nevertheless,  an  adaptation  of  that  front- 
yard  bloom  can  be  most  effective  in  a  garden  bor- 
der, when  white  Phlox  only  is  planted,  and  the 
Tiger  Lily  or  cultivated  stalks  of  our  wild  nodding 
Lily  rise  above  the  white  trusses  of  bloom.  These 
wild  Lilies  grow  very  luxuriantly  in  the  garden, 


46  Old  Time  Gardens 

often  towering  above  our  heads  and  forming  great 
candelabra  bearing  two  score  or  more  blooms.  It  is 
no  easy  task  to  secure  their  deep-rooted  rhizomes  in 
the  meadow.  I  know  a  young  man  who  won  his 
sweetheart  by  the  patience  and  assiduity  with  which 
he  dug  for  her  all  one  broiling  morning  to  secure 
for  her  the  coveted  Lily  roots,  and  collapsed  with 
mild  sunstroke  at  the  finish.  Her  gratitude  and 
remorse  were  equal  factors  in  his  favor. 

The  Tiger  Lily  is  usually  thought  upon  as  a  truly 
old-fashioned  flower,  a  veritable  antique;  it  is  a 
favorite  of  artists  to  place  as  an  accessory  in  their 
colonial  gardens,  and  of  authors  for  their  flower- 
beds of  Revolutionary  days,  but  it  was  not  known 
either  in  formal  garden  or  front  yard,  until  after 
"the  days  when  we  lived  under  the  King."  The 
bulbs  were  first  brought  to  England  from  Eastern 
Asia  in  1804  by  Captain  Kirkpatrick  of  the  East 
India  Company's  Service,  and  shared  with  the  Japan 
Lily  the  honor  of  being  the  first  Eastern  Lilies  in- 
troduced into  European  gardens.  A  few  years  ago 
an  old  gentleman,  Mr.  Isaac  Pitman,  who  was  then 
about  eighty-five  years  of  age,  told  me  that  he  re- 
called distinctly  when  Tiger  Lilies  first  appeared  in 
our  gardens,  and  where  he  first  saw  them  growing 
in  Boston.  So  instead  of  being  an  old-time  flower, 
or  even  an  old-comer  from  the  Orient,  it  is  one  of 
the  novelties  of  this  century.  How  readily  has  it 
made  itself  at  home,  and  even  wandered  wild  down 
our  roadsides  ! 

The  two  simple  colors  of  Phlox  of  the  old-time 
front  yard,  white  and  crimson-purple,  are  now  aug- 


Front  Dooryards  47 

mented  by  tints  of  salmon,  vermilion,  and  rose. 
I  recall  with  special  pleasure  the  profuse  garden 
decoration  at  East  Hampton,  Long  Island,  of  a 
pure  cherry-colored  Phlox,  generally  a  doubtful 
color  to  me,  but  there  so  associated  with  the  white 
blooms  of  various  other  plants,  and  backed  by  a 
high  hedge  covered  solidly  with  blossoming  Honey- 
suckle, that  it  was  wonderfully  successful. 

To  other  members  of  the  Phlox  family,  all 
natives  of  our  own  continent,  the  old  front  yard 
owed  much;  the  Moss  Pink  sometimes  crowded 
out  both  Grass  and  its  companion  the  Periwinkle ; 
it  is  still  found  in  our  gardens,  and  bountifully  also 
in  our  fields  ;  either  in  white  or  pink,  it  is  one  of 
the  satisfactions  of  spring,  and  its  cheerful  little 
blossom  is  of  wonderful  use  in  many  waste  places. 
An  old-fashioned  bloom,  the  low-growing  Phlox 
amcena^  with  its  queerly  fuzzy  leaves  and  bright 
crimson  blossoms,  was  among  the  most  distinctly 
old-fashioned  flowers  of  the  front  yard.  It  was  tol- 
erated rather  than  cultivated,  as  was  its  companion, 
the  Arabis  or  Rock  Cress  —  both  crowding,  monop- 
olizing creatures.  I  remember  well  how  they  spread 
over  the  beds  and  up  the  grass  banks  in  my 
mother's  garden,  how  sternly  they  were  uprooted, 
in  spite  of  the  pretty  name  of  the  Arabis  —  "  Snow 
in  Summer." 

Sometimes  the  front  yard  path  had  edgings  of 
sweet  single  or  lightly  double  white  or  tinted  Pinks, 
which  were  not  deemed  as  choice  as  Box  edgings. 
Frequently  large  Box  plants  clipped  into  simple 
and  natural  shapes  stood  at  the  side  of  the  door- 


48  Old  Time  Gardens 

step,  usually  in  the  home  of  the  well-to-do.  A 
great  shell  might  be  on  either  side  of  the  door- 
sill,  if  there  chanced  to  be  seafaring  men-folk  who 
lived  or  visited  under  the  roof-tree.  Annuals  were 
few  in  number  ;  sturdy  old  perennial  plants  of  many 
years'  growth  were  the  most  honored  dwellers  in 
the  front  yard,  true  representatives  of  old  families. 
The  Roses  were  few  and  poor,  for  there  was  usually 
some  great  tree  just  without  the  gate,  an  Elm  or 
Larch,  whose  shadow  fell  far  too  near  and  heavily 
for  the  health  of  Roses.  Sometimes  there  was  a 
prickly  semidouble  yellow  Rose,  called  by  us  a 
Scotch  Rose,  a  Sweet  Brier,  or  a  rusty-flowered  white 
Rose,  similar,  though  inferior,  to  the  Madame  Plan- 
tier.  A  new  fashion  of  trellises  appeared  in  the 
front  yard  about  sixty  years  ago,  and  crimson  Bour- 
sault  Roses  climbed  up  them  as  if  by  magic. 

One  marked  characteristic  of  the  front  yard  was 
its  lack  of  weeds  ;  few  sprung  up,  none  came  to 
seed-time ;  the  enclosure  was  small,  and  it  was  a 
mark  of  good  breeding  to  care  for  it  well.  Some- 
times, however,  the  earth  was  covered  closely  under 
shrubs  and  plants  with  the  cheerful  little  Ladies' 
Delights,  and  they  blossomed  in  the  chinks  of  the 
bricked  path  and  under  the  Box  edges.  Ambrosia, 
too,  grew  everywhere,  but  these  were  welcome  — 
they  were  not  weeds. 

Our  old  New  England  houses  were  suited  in 
color  and  outline  to  their  front  yards  as  to  our 
landscape.  Lowell  has  given  in  verse  a  good  de- 
scription of  the  kind  of  New  England  house  that 
always  had  a  front  dooryard  of  flowers. 


Yellow  Day  Lilies. 


Front  Dooryards  49 

"  On  a  grass-green  swell 

That  towards  the  south  with  sweet  concessions  fell, 
It  dwelt  retired,  and  half  had  grown  to  be 
As  aboriginal  as  rock  or  tree. 
It  nestled  close  to  earth,  and  seemed  to  brood 
O'er  homely  thoughts  in  a  half-conscious  mood. 
If  paint  it  e'er  had  known,  it  knew  no  more 
Than   yellow  lichens  spattered  thickly  o'er 
That  soft  lead  gray,  less  dark  beneath  the  eaves, 
Which  the  slow  brush  of  wind  and  weather  leaves. 
The  ample  roof  sloped  backward  to  the  ground 
And  vassal  lean-tos  gathered  thickly  round, 
Patched  on,  as  sire  or  son  had  felt  the  need. 
But  the  great  chimney  was  the  central  thought. 


It  rose  broad-shouldered,  kindly,  debonair, 
Its  warm  breath  whitening  in  the  autumn  air." 

Sarah  Orne  Jewett,  in  the  plaint  of  A  Mournful 
Villager^  has  drawn  a  beautiful  and  sympathetic 
picture  of  these  front  yards,  and  she  deplores  their 
passing.  I  mourn  them  as  I  do  every  fenced-in  or 
hedged-in  garden  enclosure.  The  sanctity  and  re- 
serve of  these  front  yards  of  our  grandmothers  was 
somewhat  emblematic  of  woman's  life  of  that  day : 
it  was  restricted,  and  narrowed  to  a  small  outlook 
and  monotonous  likeness  to  her  neighbor's;  but  it 
was  a  life  easily  satisfied  with  small  pleasures,  and  it 
was  comely  and  sheltered  and  carefully  kept,  and 
pleasant  to  the  home  household ;  and  these  were 
no  mean  things. 

The  front  yard  was  never  a  garden  of  pleasure ; 
children  could  not  play  in  these  precious  little  en- 
closed plots,  and  never  could  pick  the  flowers  — 


50  Old  Time  Gardens 

front  yard  and  flowers  were  both  too  much  respected. 
Only  formal  visitors  entered  therein,  visitors  who 
opened  the  gate  and  closed  it  carefully  behind  them, 
and  knocked  slowly  with  the  brass  knocker,  and  were 
ushered  in  through  the  ceremonious  front  door  and 
the  little  ill-contrived  entry,  to  the  stiff  fore-room  or 
parlor.  The  parson  and  his  wife  entered  that  portal, 
and  sometimes  a  solemn  would-be  sweetheart,  or  the 
guests  at  a  tea  party.  It  can  be  seen  that  every  one 
who  had  enough  social  dignity  to  have  a  front  door 
and  a  parlor,  and  visitors  thereto,  also  desired  a 
front  yard  with  flowers  as  the  external  token  of  that 
honored  standing.  It  was  like  owning  a  pew  in 
church  ;  you  could  be  a  Christian  without  having  a 
pew,  but  not  a  respected  one.  Sometimes  when 
there  was  a  "  vandue  "  in  the  house,  reckless  folk 
opened  the  front  gate,  and  even  tied  it  back.  I 
attended  one  where  the  auctioneer  boldly  set  the 
articles  out  through  the  windows  under  the  Lilac 
bushes  and  even  on  the  precious  front  yard  plants. 
A  vendue  and  a  funeral  were  the  only  gatherings 
in  country  communities  when  the  entire  neighbor- 
hood came  freely  to  an  old  homestead,  when  all 
were  at  liberty  to  enter  the  front  dooryard.  At  the 
sad  time  when  a  funeral  took  place  in  the  house, 
the  front  gate  was  fastened  widely  open,  and  solemn 
men-neighbors,  in  Sunday  garments,  stood  rather 
uncomfortably  and  awkwardly  around  the  front 
yard  as  the  women  passed  into  the  house  of 
mourning  and  were  seated  within.  When  the  sad 
services  began,  the  men  too  entered  and  stood 
stiffly  by  the  door.  Then  through  the  front  door, 


Front  Dooryards  51 

down  the  mossy  path  of  the  front  yard,  and  through 
the  open  front  gate  was  borne  the  master,  the  mis- 
tress, and  then  their  children,  an.d  children's  chil- 
dren. All  are  gone  from  our  sight,  many  from  our 
memory,  and  often  too  from  our  ken,  while  the 
Lilacs  and  Peonies  and  Flowers  de  Luce  still  blos- 
som and  flourish  with  perennial  youth,  and  still 
claim  us  as  friends. 

At  the  side  of  the  house  or  by  the  kitchen  door 
would  be  seen  many  thrifty  blooms:  poles  of  Scar- 
let Runners,  beds  of  Portulacas  and  Petunias,  rows 
of  Pinks,  bunches  of  Marigolds,  level  expanses  of 
Sweet  Williams,  banks  of  cheerful  Nasturtiums,  tan- 
gles of  Morning-glories  and  long  rows  of  stately 
Hollyhocks,  which  were  much  admired,  but  were 
seldom  seen  in  the  front  yard,  which  was  too  shaded 
for  them.  Weeds  grew  here  at  the  kitchen  door  in 
a  rank  profusion  which  was  hard  to  conquer;  but 
here  the  winter's  Fuchsias  or  Geraniums  stood  in 
flower  pots  in  the  sunlight,  and  the  tubs  of  Olean- 
ders and  Agapanthus  Lilies. 

The  flowers  of  the  front  yard  seemed  to  bear 
a  more  formal,  a  "  company  "  aspect ;  convention- 
ality rigidly  bound  them.  Bachelor's  Buttons  might 
grow  there  by  accident,  but  Marigolds  never  were 
tolerated,  —  they  were  pot  herbs.  Sunflowers  were 
not  even  permitted  in  the  flower  beds  at  the  side 
of  the  house  unless  these  stretched  down  to  the 
vegetable  beds.  Outside  the  front  yard  would  be 
a  rioting  and  cheerful  growth  of  pink  Bouncing  Bet, 
or  of  purple  Honesty,  and  tall  straggling  plants  of 
a  certain  small  flowered,  ragged  Campanula,  and  a 


52  Old  Time  Gardens 

white  Mallow  with  flannelly  leaves  which,  doubtless, 
aspired  to  inhabit  the  sacred  bounds  of  the  front 
yard  (and  probably  dwelt  there  originally),  and 
often  were  gladly  permitted  to  grow  in  side  gar- 
dens or  kitchen  dooryards,  but  which  were  re-- 
garded  as  interloping  weeds  by  the  guardians  of  the 


Orange  Day  Lilies. 

front  yard,  and  sternly  exiled.  Sometimes  a  bed 
of  these  orange-tawny  Day  Lilies  which  had  once 
been  warmly  welcomed  from  the  Orient,  and  now 
were  not  wanted  anywhere  by  any  one,  kept  com- 
pany with  the  Bouncing  Bet,  and  stretched  cheer- 
fully down-the  roadside. 

When    the    fences    disappeared    with    the    night 
rambles    of  the   cows,    the    front    yards    gradually 


Front  Dooryards  53 

changed  character ;  the  tender  blooms  vanished, 
but  the  tall  shrubs  and  the  Peonies  and  Flower  de 
Luce  sturdily  grew  and  blossomed,  save  where  that 
dreary  destroyer  of  a  garden  crept  in  —  the  desire 
for  a  lawn.  The  result  was  then  a  meagre  expanse 
of  poorly  kept  grass,  with  no  variety,  color,  or 
change,  —  neither  lawn  nor  front  yard.  It  is  ever 
a  pleasure  to  me  when  driving  in  a  village  street 
or  a  country  road  to  find  one  of  these  front  yards 
still  enclosed,  or  even  to  note  in  front  of  many 
houses  the  traces  of  a  past  front  yard  still  plainly 
visible  in  the  flourishing  old-fashioned  plants  of 
many  years'  growth. 


CHAPTER    III 

VARIED    GARDENS    FAIR 

'  And  all  without  were  walkes  and  alleys  dight 
With  divers  trees  enrang'd  in  even  rankes  ; 
And  here  and  there  were  pleasant  arbors  pight 
And  shadie  seats,  and  sundry  flowering  bankes 
To  sit  and  rest  the  walkers  wearie  shankes." 

—  Faerie  ^ueene,  EDMUND  SPENSER. 


ANY  simple  forms  of  gardens 
were  common  besides  the  en- 
closed front  yard;  and  as  wealth 
poured  in  on  the  colonies,  the 
beautiful  gardens  so  much  thought 
of  in  England  were  copied  here, 
especially  by  wealthy  merchants,  as  is  noted  in  the 
first  chapter  of  this  book,  and  by  the  provincial 
governors  and  their  little  courts  ;  the  garden  of 
Governor  Hutchinson,  in  Milford,  Massachusetts, 
is  stately  still  and  little  changed. 

English  gardens,  at  the  time  of  the  settlement  of 
America,  had  passed  beyond  the  time  when,  as  old 
Gervayse  Markham  said,  "  Of  all  the  best  Orna- 
ments used  in  our  English  gardens,  Knots  and 
Mazes  are  the  most  ancient."  A  maze  was  a 
placing  of  low  garden  hedges  of  Privet,  Box,  or 
Hyssop,  usually  set  in  concentric  circles  which  en- 

54 


Varied  Gardens  Fair  55 

closed  paths,  that  opened  into  each  other  by  such 
artful  contrivance  that  it  was  difficult  to  find  one's 
way  in  and  out  through  these  bewildering  paths. 
"  When  well  formed,  of  a  man's  height,  your  friend 
may  perhaps  wander  in  gathering  berries  as  he 
cannot  recover  himself  without  your  help." 

The  maze  was  not  a  thing  of  beauty,  it  was 
"  nothing  for  sweetness  and  health,"  to  use  Lord 
Bacon's  words  ;  it  was  only  a  whimsical  notion  of 
gardening  amusement,  pleasing  to  a  generation  who 
liked  to  have  hidden  fountains  in  their  gardens  to 
sprinkle  suddenly  the  unwary.  I  doubt  if  any 
mazes  were  ever  laid  out  in  America,  though  I  have 
heard  vague  references  to  one  in  Virginia.  Knots 
had  been  the  choice  adornment  of  the  Tudor 
garden.  They  were  not  wholly  a  thing  of  the  past 
when  we  had  here  our  first  gardens,  and  they  have 
had  a  distinct  influence  on  garden  laying-out  till  our 
own  day. 

An  Elizabethan  poet  wrote  :  — 

"  My  Garden  sweet,  enclosed  with  walles  strong, 
Embanked  with  benches  to  sitt  and  take  my  rest ; 
The  knots  so  en  knotted  it  cannot  be  expressed 
The  arbores  and  alyes  so  pleasant  and  so  duke." 

These  garden  knots  were  not  flower  beds  edged 
with  Box  or  Rosemary,  with  narrow  walks  between 
the  edgings,  as  were  the  parterres  of  our  later 
formal  gardens.  They  were  square,  ornamental 
beds,  each  of  which  had  a  design  set  in  some 
close-growing,  trim  plant,  clipped  flatly  across 
the  top,  and  the  design  filled  in  with  colored  earth 


56  Old  Time  Gardens 

or  sand ;  and  with  no  dividing  paths.  Elaborate 
models  in  complicated  geometrical  pattern  were 
given  in  gardeners'  books,  for  setting  out  these 
knots,  which  were  first  drawn  on  paper  and  sub- 
divided into  squares  ;  then  the  square  of  earth  was 
similarly  divided,  and  set  out  by  precise  rules. 
William  Lawson,  the  Izaak  Walton  of  gardeners, 
gave,  as  a  result  of  forty-eight  years  of  experience, 
some  very  attractive  directions  for  large  "  knottys  " 
with  different  "  thrids "  of  flowers,  each  of  one 
color,  which  made  the  design  appear  as  if  "  made 
of  diverse  colored  ribands."  One  of  his  knots, 
from  A  New  Orchard  and  Garden  1618,  being 
a  garden  fashion  in  vogue  when  my  forbears  came 
to  America,  I  have  chosen  as  a  device  for  the  dedi- 
cation of  this  book,  thinking  it,  in  Lawson's  words, 
"  so  comely,  and  orderly  placed,  and  so  inter- 
mingled, that  one  looking  thereon  cannot  but  won- 
der." His  knots  had  significant  names,  such  as 
"  Cinkfoyle  ;  Flower  de  Luce  ;  Trefoyle  ;  Frette  ; 
Lozenge;  Groseboowe ;  Diamond;  Ovall ;  Maze." 

Gervayse  Markham  gives  various  knot  patterns 
to  be  bordered  with  Box  cut  eighteen  inches  broad 
at  the  bottom  and  kept  flat  at  the  top  —  with  the 
ever  present  thought  for  the  fine  English  linen. 
He  has  a  varied  list  of  circular,  diamond-shaped, 
mixed,  and  "single  impleated  knots." 

These  garden  knots  were  mildly  sneered  at  by 
Lord  Bacon ;  he  said,  "  they  be  but  toys,  you  see 
as  good  sights  many  times  in  tarts;"  still  I  think 
they  must  have  been  quaint,  and  I  should  like  to 
see  a  garden  laid  out  to-day  in  these  pretty  Eliza- 


Varied  Gardens  Fair 


57 


betnan  knots,  set  in  the  old  patterns,  and  with  the 
old  flowers.  Nor  did  Parkinson  and  other  practical 
gardeners  look  with  favor  on  "  curiously  knotted 


Box-edged  Parterre  at  Hampton. 

gardens,"  though  all  gave  designs  to  "satisfy  the 
desires"  of  their  readers.  "Open  knots"  were  pre- 
ferred ;  these  were  made  with  borders  of  lead,  tiles, 
boards,  or  even  the  shankbones  of  sheep,  "  which 
will  become  white  and  prettily  grace  out  the  gar- 


58  Old  Time  Gardens 

den,"  —  a  fashion  I  saw  a  few  years  ago  around 
flower  beds  in  Charlton,  Massachusetts.  "  Round 
whitish  pebble  stones  "  for  edgings  were  Parkinson's 
own  invention,  and  proud  he  was  of  it,  simple  as  it 
seems  to  us.  These  open  knots  were  then  filled 
in,  but  "  thin  and  sparingly,"  with  "  English  Flow- 
ers "  ;  or  with  "  Out-Landish  Flowers,"  which  were 
flowers  fetched  from  foreign  parts. 

The  parterre  succeeded  the  knot,  and  has  been 
used  in  gardens  till  the  present  day.  Parterres  were 
of  different  combinations,  "  well-contriv'd  and  inge- 
nious." The  "  parterre  of  cut-work  "  was  a  Box- 
bordered  formal  flower  garden,  of  which  the  garden 
at  Hampton,  Maryland  (pages  57,  60,  and  95),  is  a 
striking  and  perfect  example ;  also  the  present  gar- 
den at  Mount  Vernon  (opposite  page  12),  wherein 
carefully  designed  flower  beds,  edged  with  Box,  are 
planted  with  variety  of  flowers,  and  separated  by 
paths.  Sometimes,  of  old,  fine  white  sand  was  care- 
fully strewn  on  the  earth  under  the  flowers.  The 
"  parterre  a  1'Anglaise  "  had  an  elaborate  design  of 
vari-shaped  beds  edged  with  Box,  but  enclosing  grass 
instead  of  flowers.  In  the  "parterre  de  broderie  " 
the  Box-edged  beds  were  filled  with  vari-colored 
earths  and  sands.  Black  earth  could  be  made  of 
iron  filings;  red  earth  of  pounded  tiles.  This  last- 
named  parterre  differed  from  a  knot  solely  in  having 
the  paths  among  the  beds.  The  Retired  Gardner 
gives  patterns  for  ten  parterres. 

The  main  walks  which  formed  the  basis  of  the 
garden  design  had  in  ancient  days  a  singular  name 
—  forthrights ;  these  were  ever  to  be  "  spacious 


Varied  Gardens  Fair  59 

and  fair,"  and  neatly  spread  with  colored  sands  or 
gravel.  Parkinson  says,  "  The  fairer  and  larger 
your  allies  and  walks  be  the  more  grace  your 
garden  should  have,  the  lesse  harm  the  herbes  and 
flowers  shall  receive,  and  the  better  shall  your 
weeders  cleanse  both  the  bed  and  the  allies."  "Cov- 
ert-walks," or  "  shade-alleys,"  had  trees  meeting  in 
an  arch  over  them. 

A  curious  term,  found  in  references  to  old  Amer- 
ican flower  beds  and  garden  designs,  as  well  as 
English  ones,  is  the  "  goose-foot."  A  "  goose- 
foot  "  consisted  of  three  flower  beds  or  three 
avenues  radiating  rather  closely  together  from  a 
small  semicircle ;  and  in  some  places  and  under 
some  conditions  it  is  still  a  charming  and  striking 
design,  as  you  stand  at  the  heel  of  the  design  and 
glance  down  the  three  avenues. 

In  all  these  flower  beds  Box  was  the  favorite 
edging,  but  many  other  trim  edgings  have  been 
used  in  parterres  and  borders  by  those  who  love  not 
Box.  Bricks  were  used,  and  boards ;  an  edging  of 
boards  was  not  as  pretty  as  one  of  flowers,  but  it 
kept  the  beds  trimly  in  place;  a  garden  thus  edged 
is  shown  on  page  63  which  realizes  this  descrip- 
tion of  the  pleasure-garden  in  the  Scots  GarcTner : 
"The  Bordures  box'd  and  planted  with  variety  of  fine 
Flowers  orderly  Intermixt,  Weeded,  Mow'd,  Rolled 
and  Kept  all  Clean  and  Handsome."  Germander 
and  Rosemary  were  old  favorites  for  edging.  I 
have  seen  snowy  edgings  of  Candy-tuft  and  Sweet 
Alyssum,  setting  oflf  well  the  vari-colored  blooms 
of  the  border.  One  of  Sweet  Alyssum  is  shown 


6o 


Old  Time  Gardens 


on  page  256.  Ageratum  is  a  satisfactory  edging. 
Thyme  is  of  ancient  use,  but  rather  unmanageable ; 
one  garden  owner  has  set  his  edgings  of  Money- 
wort, otherwise  Creeping-jenny.  I  should  be  loth 
to  use  Moneywort  as  an  edging  ;  I  would  not  care 


Parterre  and  Clipped  Box  at  Hampton. 

for  its  yellow  flowers  in  that  place,  though  I  find 
them  very  kindly  and  cheerful  on  dull  banks  or  in 
damp  spots,  under  the  drip  of  trees  and  eaves,  or 
better  still,  growing  gladly  in  the  flower  pot  of  the 
poor.  I  fear  if  Moneywort  thrived  enough  to 
make  a  close,  suitable  edging,  that  it  would  thrive 
too  well,  and  would  swamp  the  borders  with  its  un- 


Varied  Gardens  Fair  61 

derground  runners.  The  name  Moneywort  is  akin 
to  its  older  title  Herb-twopence,  or  Twopenny 
Grass.  Turner  (1548)  says  the  latter  name  was 
given  from  the  leaves  all  "  standying  together  of  ech 
syde  of  the  stalke  lyke  pence."  The  striped  leaves 
of  one  variety  of  Day  Lily  make  pretty  edgings. 
Those  from  a  Salem  garden  are  here  shown. 

We  often  see  in  neglected  gardens  in  New  Eng- 
land, or  by  the  roadside  where  no  gardens  now  exist, 
a  dense  gray-green  growth  of  Lavender  Cotton, 
"  the  female  plant  of  Southernwood,"  which  was 
brought  here  by  the  colonists  and  here  will  ever 
remain.  It  was  used  as  an  edging,  and  is  very 
pretty  when  it  can  be  controlled.  I  know  two  or 
three  old  gardens  where  it  is  thus  employed. 

Sometimes  in  driving  along  a  country  road  you 
are  startled  by  a  concentration  of  foliage  and  bloom, 
a  glimpse  of  a  tiny  farm-house,  over  which  are 
clustered  and  heaped,  and  round  which  are  gath- 
ered, close  enough  to  be  within  touch  from  door  or 
window,  flowers  in  a  crowded  profusion  ample  to  fill 
a  large  flower  bed.  Such  is  the  mass  of  June  bloom 
at  Wilbur  Farm  in  old  Narragansett  (page  290)  —  a 
home  of  flowers  and  bees.  Often  by  the  side  of 
the  farm-house  is  a  little  garden  or  flower  bed  con- 
taining some  splendid  examples  of  old-time  flowers. 
The  splendid  "  running  ribbons  "  of  Snow  Pinks, 
on  page  292,  are  in  another  Narragansett  garden 
that  is  a  bower  of  blossoms.  Thrift  has  been  a 
common  edging  since  the  days  of  the  old  herbalist 
Gerarde. 


62  Old  Time  Gardens 

"  We  have  a  bright  little  garden,  down  on  a  sunny  slope, 

Bordered  with  sea-pinks  and  sweet  with  the  songs  and  blossoms 
of  hope." 

The  garden  of  Secretary  William  H.  Seward  (in 
Auburn,  New  York),  so  beloved  by  him  in  his  life- 
time, is  shown  on  page  146  and  facing  page  134.  In 
this  garden  some  beds  are  edged  with  Periwinkle, 
others  with  Polyanthus,  and  some  with  Ivy  which 
Mr.  Seward  brought  from  Abbotsford  in  1836.  This 
garden  was  laid  out  in  its  present  form  in  1816,  and 
the  sun-dial  was  then  set  in  its  place.  The  garden 
has  been  enlarged,  but  not  changed,  the  old  "George 
II.  Roses"  and  York  and  Lancaster  Roses  still 
grow  and  blossom,  and  the  lovely  arches  of  single 
Michigan  Roses  still  flourish.  In  it  are  many 
flowers  and  fruits  unusual  in  America,  among  them 
a  bed  of  Alpine  strawberries. 

King  James  I.  of  Scotland  thus  wrote  of  the 
garden  which  he  saw  from  his  prison  window  in 
Windsor  Castle :  — 

'*  A  Garden  fair,  and  in  the  Corners  set 
An  Herbere  greene,  with  Wandis  long  and  small 
Railit  about." 

These  wandis  were  railings  which  were  much 
used  before  Box  edgings  became  universal.  Some- 
times they  were  painted  the  family  colors,  as  at 
Hampton  Court  they  were  green  and  white,  the 
Tudor  colors.  These  "  wandis  "  still  are  occasion- 
ally seen.  In  the  Berkshire  Hills  I  drove  past  an 
old  garden  thus  trimly  enclosed  in  little  beds.  The 
rails  were  painted  a  dull  light  brown,  almost  the  color 


Varied  Gardens   Fair  63 

of  some  tree  trunks;  and  Larkspur,  Foxglove,  and 
other  tall  flowers  crowded  up  to  them  and  hung 
their  heads  over  the  top  rails  as  children  hang  over 
a  fence  or  a  gate.  I  thought  it  a  neat,  trim  fashion, 
not  one  I  would  care  for  in  my  own  garden,  yet 
not  to  be  despised  in  the  garden  of  another. 

A  garden  enclosed  !  so  full  of  suggestion  are  these 
simple  words  to  me,  so  constant  is  my  thought  that 


Garden  of  Mrs.   Mabel  Osgood  Wright,  Waldstein,  Fairfield,  Conn. 

an  ideal  flower  garden  must  be  an  enclosed  garden, 
that  I  look  with  regret  upon  all  beautiful  flower  beds 
that  are  not  enclosed,  not  shut  in  a  frame  of  green 
hedges,  or  high  walls,  or  vine-covered  fences  and 
dividing  trees.  It  may  be  selfish  to  hide  so  much 
beauty  from  general  view ;  but  until  our  dwelling- 
houses  are  made  with  uncurtained  glass  walls,  that 
all  the  world  may  see  everything,  let  those  who 


64  Old  Time  Gardens 

have  ample  grounds  enclose  at  least  a  portion  for 
the  sight  of  friends  only. 

In  the  heart  of  Worcester  there  is  a  fine  old  man- 
sion with  ample  lawns,  great  trees,  and  flowering 
shrubs  that  all  may  see  over  the  garden  fence  as 
they  pass  by.  Flowers  bloom  lavishly  at  one  side  of 
the  house;  and  the  thoughtless  stroller  never  knows 
that  behind  the  house,  stretching  down  between  the 
rear  gardens  and  walls  of  neighboring  homes,  is  a 
long  enclosure  of  loveliness  —  sequestered,  quiet, 
full  of  refreshment  to  the  spirits.  We  think  of  the 
"  Old  Garden  "  of  Margaret  Deland  :  — 

"  The  Garden  glows 

And  'gainst  its  walls  the  city's  heart  still  beats. 
And  out  from  it  each  summer  wind  that  blows 
Carries  some  sweetness  to  the  tired  streets  !  " 

There  is  a  shaded  walk  in  this  garden  which  is  a 
thing  of  solace  and  content  to  all  who  tread  its 
pathway  ;  a  bit  is  shown  opposite  this  page,  over- 
hung with  shrubs  of  Lilac,  Syringa,  Strawberry  Bush, 
Flowering  Currant,  all  the  old  treelike  things,  so 
fair-flowered  and  sweet-scented  in  spring,  so  heavy- 
leaved  and  cool-shadowing  in  midsummer:  what 
pleasure  would  there  be  in  this  shaded  walk  if  this 
garden  were  separated  from  the  street  only  by  stone 
curbing  or  a  low  rail  ?  And  there  is  an  old  sun-dial 
too  in  this  enclosed  garden  !  I  fear  the  street  imps 
of  a  crowded  city  would  quickly  destroy  the  old 
monitor  were  it  in  an  open  garden  ;  and  they  would 
make  sad  havoc,  too,  of  the  Roses  and  Larkspurs 
(page  65)  so  tenderly  reared  by  the  two  sisters  who 


Shaded  Walk  in  Garden  of  Miss  Harriet  P.  F.   Burnside,  Worcester, 
Massachusetts. 


Varied  Gardens  Fair  65 

together  loved  and  cared  for  this  "garden  enclosed." 
Great  trees  are  at  the  edges  of  this  garden,  and  the 
line  of  tall  shrubs  is  carried  out  by  the  lavish  vines 
and  Roses  on  fences  and  walls.  Within  all  this 


Roses  and  Larkspur  in  the  Garden  of  Miss  Harriet  P.   F.  Burnside, 
Worcester,  Massachusetts. 


border  of  greenery  glow  the  clustered  gems  of  rare 
and  beautiful  flowers,  till  the  whole  garden  seems 
like  some  rich  jewel  set  purposely  to  be  worn  in 
honor  over  the  city's  heart  —  a  clustered  jewel,  not 
one  to  be  displayed  carelessly  and  heedlessly. 


66  Old  Time  Gardens 

Salem  houses  and  gardens  are  like  Salem  people. 
Salem  houses  present  to  you  a  serene  and  dignified 
front,  gracious  yet  reserved,  not  thrusting  forward 
their  choicest  treasures  to  the  eyes  of  passing  stran- 
gers ;  but  behind  the  walls  of  the  houses,  enclosed 
from  public  view,  lie  cherished  gardens,  full  of  the 
beauty  of  life.  Such,  in  their  kind,  are  Salem  folk. 

I  know  no  more  speaking,  though  silent,  criticism 
than  those  old  Salem  gardens  afford  upon  the  mod- 
ern fashion  in  American  towns  of  pulling  down  walls 
and  fences,  removing  the  boundaries  of  lawns,  and 
living  in  full  view  of  every  passer-by,  in  a  public 
grassy  park.  It  is  pleasant,  I  suppose,  for  the  passer- 
by ;  but  homes  are  not  made  for  passers-by.  Old 
Salem  gardens  lie  behind  the  house,  out  of  sight  — 
you  have  to  hunt  for  them.  They  are  terraced  down 
if  they  stretch  to  the  water-side ;  they  are  enclosed 
with  hedges,  and  set  behind  high  vine-covered  fences, 
and  low  out-buildings;  and  planted  around  with  great 
trees  :  thus  they  give  to  each  family  that  secluded 
centring  of  family  life  which  is  the  very  essence  and 
being  of  a  home.  I  sat  through  a  June  afternoon 
in  a  Salem  garden  whose  gate  is  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  a  great  theatre,  but  a  few  hundred  feet  from 
lines  of  electric  cars  and  a  busy  street  of  trade,  scarce 
farther  from  lines  of  active  steam  cars,  and  with  a 
great  power  house  for  a  close  neighbor.  Yet  we 
were  as  secluded,  as  embowered  in  vines  and  trees, 
with  beehives  and  rabbit  hutches  and  chicken  coops 
for  happy  children  at  the  garden's  end,  as  truly  in 
beautiful  privacy,  as  if  in  the  midst  of  a  hundred 
acres.  Could  the  sense  of  sound  be  as  sheltered 


Varied  Gardens  Fair  67 

by  the  enclosing  walls  as  the  sense  of  sight,  such  a 
garden  were  a  city  paradise. 

There  is  scant  regularity  in  shape  in  Salem  gar- 
dens ;  there  is  no  search  for  exact  dimensions. 
Little  narrow  strips  of  flower  beds  run  down  from 
the  main  garden  in  any  direction  or  at  any  angle 
where  the  fortunate  owner  can  buy  a  few  feet  of 
land.  Salem  gardens  do  not  change  with  the 
whims  of  fancy,  either  in  the  shape  or  the  plant- 
ing. A  few  new  flowers  find  place  there,  such  as 
the  Anemone  Japonica  and  the  Japanese  shrubs; 
for  they  are  akin  in  flower  sentiment,  and  consort 
well  with  the  old  inhabitants.  There  are  many 
choice  flowers  and  fruits  in  these  gardens.  In  the 
garden  of  the  Manning  homestead  (opposite  page 
112)  grows  a  flourishing  Fig  tree,  and  other  rare 
fruits  ;  for  fifty  years  ago  this  garden  was  known  as 
the  Pomological  Garden.  It  is  fitting  it  should  be 
the  home  of  two  Robert  Mannings  —  both  well- 
known  names  in  the  history  of  horticulture  in  Massa- 
chusetts. 

The  homely  back  yard  of  an  old  house  will  often 
possess  a  trim  and  blooming  flower  border  cutting 
off  the  close  approach  of  the  vegetable  beds  (see 
opposite  page  66).  These  back  yards,  with  the 
covered  Grape  arbors,  the  old  pumps,  and  bricked 
paths,  are  cheerful,  wholesome  places,  generally  of 
spotless  cleanliness  and  weedless  flower  beds.  I 
know  one  such  back  yard  where  the  pump  was  the 
first  one  set  in  the  town,  and  children  were  taken 
there  from  a  distance  to  see  the  wondrous  sight. 
Why  are  all  the  old  appliances  for  raising  water  so 


68 


Old  Time  Gardens 


pleasi-ng  ?  A  well-sweep  is  of  course  picturesque, 
with  its  long  swinging  pole,  and  you  seem  to  feel 
the  refreshment  and  purity  of  the  water  when  you 
see  it  brought  up  from  such  a  distance ;  and  an  old 


. 


Covered  Well  at  Home  of  Bishop  Berkeley,  Whitehall,  Rhode  Island. 

roofed  well  with  bucket,  such  as  this  one  still  in  use 
at  Bishop  Berkeley's  Rhode  Island  home  is  ever  a 
homelike  and  companionable  object.  But  a  pump 
is  really  an  awkward-looking  piece  of  mechanism, 
and  hasn't  a  vestige  of  beauty  in  its  lines;  yet  it  has 
something  satisfying  about  it ;  it  may  be  its  do- 


Varied  Gardens  Fair  69 

mesticity,  its  homeliness,  its  simplicity.  We  have 
gained  infinitely  in  comfort  in  our  perfect  water 
systems  and  lavish  water  of  to-day,  but  we  have 
lost  the  gratification  of  the  senses  which  came  from 
the  sight  and  sound  of  freshly  drawn  or  running 
water.  Much  of  the  delight  in  a  fountain  comes, 
not  only  from  the  beauty  of  its  setting  and  the 
graceful  shape  of  its  jets,  but  simply  from  the  sight 
of  the  water. 

Sometimes  a  graceful  and  picturesque  growth  of 
vines  will  beautify  gate  posts,  a  fence,  or  a  kitchen 
doorway  in  a  wonderfully  artistic  and  pleasing  fash- 
ion. On  page  70  is  shown  the  sheltered  doorway 
of  the  kitchen  of  a  fine  old  stone  farm-house  called, 
from  its  hedges  of  Osage  Orange,  "  The  Hedges."  It 
stands  in  the  village  of  New  Hope,  County  Bucks, 
Pennsylvania.  In  1718  the  tract  of  which  this  farm 
of  over  two  hundred  acres  is  but  a  portion  was 
deeded  by  the  Penns  to  their  kinsman,  the  direct 
ancestor  of  the  present  owner,  John  Schofield  Wil- 
liams, Esq.  This  is  but  one  of  the  scores  of  exam- 
ples I  know  where  the  same  estate  has  been  owned 
in  one  family  for  nearly  two  centuries,  sometimes 
even  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  years ;  and  in  sev- 
eral cases  where  the  deed  from  the  Indian  sachem 
to  the  first  colonist  is  the  only  deed  there  has  ever 
been,  the  estate  having  never  changed  ownership 
save  by  direct  bequest.  I  have  three  such  cases 
among  my  own  kinsfolk. 

Another  form  of  garden  and  mode  of  planting 
which  was  in  vogue  in  the  "  early  thirties  "  is  shown 
facing  page  92.  This  pillared  house  and  the  stiff 


70  Old  Time  Gardens 

garden  are  excellent  types  ;  they  are  at  Napanock, 
County  Ulster,  New .  York.  Such  a  house  and 
grounds  indicated  the  possession  of  considerable 
wealth  when  they  were  built  and  laid  out,  for  both 
were  costly.  The  semicircular  driveway  swept  up 


Kitchen  Doorway  and  Porch  at  the   Hedges. 

to  the  front  door,  dividing  off  Box-edged  parterres 
like  those  of  the  day  of  Queen  Anne.  These  par- 
terres were  sparsely  filled,  the  sunnier  beds  being 
set  with  Spring  bulbs ;  and  there  were  always  the 
yellow  Day  Lilies  somewhere  in  the  flower  beds,  and 
the  white  and  blue  Day  Lilies,  the  common  Funkias. 
Formal  urns  were  usually  found  in  the  parterres  and 


Varied  Gardens  Fair  71 

sometimes  a  great  cone  or  ball  of  clipped  Box.  These 
gardens  had  some  universal  details,  they  always  had 
great  Snowball  bushes,  and  Syringas,  and  usually 
white  Roses,  chiefly  Madame  Plantiers ;  the  piazza 
trellises  had  old  climbing  Roses,  the  Queen  of  the 
Prairie  or  Boursault  Roses.  These  gardens  are 
often  densely  overshadowed  with  great  evergreen 
trees  grown  from  the  crowded  planting  of  seventy 
years  ago ;  none  are  cut  down,  and  if  one  dies  its 
trunk  still  stands,  entwined  with  Woodbine.  I  don't 
know  that  we  would  lay  out  and  plant  just  such  a 
garden  to-day,  any  more  than  we  would  build  exactly 
such  a  house;  but  I  love  to  see  both,  types  of  the 
refinement  of  their  day,  and  I  deplore  any  changes. 
An  old  Southern  house  of  allied  form  is  shown  on 
page  72,  and  its  garden  facing  page  70, —  Green- 
wood, in  Thomasville,  Georgia ;  but  of  course  this 
garden  has  far  more  lavish  and  rich  bloom.  The 
decoration  of  this  house  is  most  interesting  —  a 
conventionalized  Magnolia,  and  the  garden  is 
surrounded  with  splendid  Magnolias  and  Crape 
Myrtles.  The  border  edgings  in  this  garden  are 
lines  of  bricks  set  overlapping  in  a  curious  manner. 
They  serve  to  keep  the  beds  firmly  in  place,  and  the 
bricks  are  covered  over  with  an  inner  edging  of 
thrifty  Violets.  Curious  tubs  and  boxes  for  plants 
are  made  of  bricks  set  solidly  in  mortar.  The  gar- 
den is  glorious  with  Roses,  which  seem  to  consort 
so  well  with  Magnolias  and  Violets. 

I  love  a  Dutch  garden,  "  circummured "  with 
brick.  By  a  Dutch  garden,  I  mean  a  small  garden, 
oblong  or  square,  sunk  about  three  or  four  feet  in 


72  Old  Time  Gardens 

a  lawn  —  so  that  when  surrounded  by  brick  walls 
they  seem  about  two  feet  high  when  viewed  outside, 
but  are  five  feet  or  more  high  from  within  the  gar- 
den. There  are  brick  or  stone  steps  in  the  middle 
of  each  of  the  four  walls  by  which  to  descend  to  the 
garden,  which  may  be  all  planted  with  flowers,  but 
preferably  should  have  set  borders  of  flowers  with 


Greenwood,  Thomasville,  Georgia. 

a  grass-plot  in  the  centre.  On  either  side  of  the 
steps  should  be  brick  posts  surmounted  by  Dutch 
pots  with  plants,  or  by  balls  of  stone.  Planted  with 
bulbs,  these  gardens  in  their  flowering  time  are,  as 
old  Parkinson  said,  a  "  perfect  fielde  of  delite." 
We  have  very  pretty  Dutch  gardens,  so  called,  in 
America,  but  their  chief  claim  to  being  Dutch  is 
that  they  are  set  with  bulbs,  and  have  Delft  or  other 
earthen  pots  or  boxes  for  formal  plants  or  shrubs. 


Varied  Gardens   Fair  73 

Sunken  gardens  should  be  laid  out  under  the  su- 
pervision of  an  intelligent  landscape  architect ;  and 
even  then  should  have  a  reason  for  being  sunken 
other  than  a  whim  or  increase  in  costliness.  I  vis- 
ited last  summer  a  beautiful  estate  which  had  a  deep 
sunken  Dutch  garden  with  a  very  low  wall.  It  lay 
at  the  right  side  of  the  house  at  a  little  distance ; 
and  beyond  it,  in  full  view  of  the  peristyle,  extended 
the  only  squalid  objects  in  the  horizon.  A  garden 
on  the  level,  well  planted,  with  distant  edging  of 
shrubbery,  would  have  hidden  every  ugly  blemish 
and  been  a  thing  of  beauty.  As  it  is  now,  there 
can  be  seen  from  the  house  nothing  of  the  Dutch 
garden  but  a  foot  or  two  of  the  tops  of  several 
clipped  trees,  looking  like  very  poor,  stunted  shrubs. 
I  must  add  that  this  garden,  with  its  low  wall,  has 
been  a  perfect  man-trap.  It  has  been  evident  that 
often,  on  dark  nights,  workmen  who  have  sought  a 
"  short  cut  "  across  the  grounds  have  fallen  over 
the  shallow  wall,  to  the  gardener's  sorrow,  and  the 
bulbs'  destruction.  Once,  at  dawn,  the  unhappy 
gardener  found  an  ancient  horse  peacefully  feed- 
ing among  the  Hyacinths  and  Tulips.  He  said  he 
didn't  like  the  grass  in  his  new  pasture  nor  the  sud- 
den approach  to  it;  that  he  was  too  old  for  such 
new-fangled  ways.  I  know  another  estate  near 
Philadelphia,  where  the  sinking  of  a  garden  revealed 
an  exquisite  view  of  distant  hills  ;  such  a  garden 
has  reason  for  its  form. 

We  have  had  few  water-gardens  in  America  till 
recent  years ;  and  there  are  some  drawbacks  to 
their  presence  near  our  homes,  as  I  was  vividly 


74  Old  Time  Gardens 

aware  when  I  visited  one  in  a  friend's  garden  early 
in  May  this  year.  Water-hyacinths  were  even 
then  in  bloom,  and  two  or  three  exquisite  Lilies ; 
and  the  Lotus  leaves  rose  up  charmingly  from  the 
surface  of  the  tank.  Less  charmingly  rose  up  also 
a  cloud  of  vicious  mosquitoes,  who  greeted  the  new- 
comer with  a  warm  chorus  of  welcome.  As  our 
newspapers  at  that  time  were  filled  with  plans  for 
the  application  of  kerosene  to  every  inch  of  water- 
surface,  such  as  I  saw  in  these  Lily  tanks,  accom- 
panied by  magnified  drawings  of  dreadful  malaria- 
bearing  insects,  I  fled  from  them,  preferring  to  resign 
both  Nympb<£a  and  Anopheles. 

After  the  introduction  to  English  folk  of  that 
wonder  of  the  world,  the  Victoria  Regia,  it  was 
cultivated  by  enthusiastic  flower  lovers  in  Amer- 
ica, and  was  for  a  time  the  height  of  the  floral 
fashion.  Never  has  the  glorious  Victoria  Regia 
and  scarce  any  other  flower  been  described  as  by 
Colonel  Higginson,  a  wonderful,  a  triumphant  word 
picture.  I  was  a  very  little  child  when  I  saw  that 
same  lovely  Lily  in  leaf  and  flower  that  he  called 
his  neighbor ;  but  I  have  never  forgotten  it,  nor 
how  afraid  I  was  of  it ;  for  some  one  wished  to 
lift  me  upon  the  great  leaf  to  see  whether  it  would 
hold  me  above  the  water.  We  had  heard  that  the 
native  children  in  South  America  floated  on  the 
leaves.  I  objected  to  this  experiment  with  vehe- 
mence ;  but  my  mother  noted  that  I  was  no  more 
frightened  than  was  the  faithful  gardener  at  the 
thought  of  the  possible  strain  on  his  precious  plant 
of  the  weight  of  a  sturdy  child  of  six  or  seven  years. 


Varied  Gardens  Fair 


75 


Water  Garden  at  Sylvester  Manor,  Shelter  Island,  New  York. 

I  have  seen  the  Victoria  Regia  leaves  of  late  years, 
but  I  seldom  hear  of  its  blossoming ;  but  alas  !  we 
take  less  heed  of  the  blooming  of  unusual  plants 
than  we  used  to  thirty  or  forty  years  ago.  Then 
people  thronged  a  greenhouse  to  see  a  new  Rose  or 
Camellia  Japonica ;  even  a  Night-blooming  Cereus 
attracted  scores  of  visitors  to  any  house  where  it 
blossomed.  And  a  fine  Cactus  of  one  of  our  neigh- 
bors always  held  a  crowded  reception  when  in  rich 
bloom.  It  was  a  part  of  the  "  Flower  Exchange," 
an  interest  all  had  for  the  beautiful  flowers  of  others, 
a  part  of  the  old  neighborly  life. 

Within  the  past  five  or  six  years  there  have  been 
laid  out  in  America,  at  the  country  seats  of  men  of 
wealth  and  culture,  a  great  number  of  formal  gar- 
dens,—  Italian  gardens,  some  of  them  are  worthily 
named,  as  they  have  been  shaped  and  planted  in 
conformity  with  the  best  laws  and  rules  of  Italian 


76 


Old  Time  Gardens 


garden-making  —  that  special  art.  On  this  page 
is  shown  the  finely  proportioned  terrace  wall,  and 
opposite  the  upper  terrace  and  formal  garden  of 
Drumthwacket,  Princeton,  New  Jersey,  the  country 
seat  of  M.  Taylor  Pyne,  Esq.  This  garden  affords  a 
good  example  of  the  accord  which  should  ever  exist 


Terrace  Wall  at  Drumthwacket,  Princeton,  New  Jersey. 

between  the  garden  and  its  surroundings.  The  name, 
Drumthwacket  —  a  wooded  hill  —  is  a  most  felici- 
tous one ;  the  place  is  part  of  the  original  grant  to 
William  Penn,  and  has  remained  in  the  possession 
of  one  family  until  late  in  the  nineteenth  century. 
From  this  beautifully  wooded  hill  the  terrace-garden 
overlooks  the  farm  buildings,  the  linked  ponds,  the 
fertile  fields  and  meadows  ;  a  serene  pastoral  view, 
typical  of  the  peaceful  landscape  of  that  vicinity  — 


Varied  Gardens  Fair 


77 


yet  it  was  once  the  scene  of  fiercest  battle.  For  the 
Drumthwacket  farm  is  the  battle-ground  of  that  im- 
portant encounter  of  1777  between  the  British  and 
the  Continental  troops,  known  as  the  Battle  of 
Princeton,  the  turning  point  of  the  Revolution,  in 
which  Washington  was  victorious.  To  this  day, 


Garden  at  Drumthwacket,  Princeton,  New  Jersey. 

cannon  ball  and  grape  shot  are  dug  up  in  the  Drum- 
thwacket fields.  The  Lodge  built  in  1696  was,  at 
Washington's  request,  the  shelter  for  the  wounded 
British  officers  ;  and  the  Washington  Spring  in  front 
of  the  Lodge  furnished  water  to  Washington.  The 
group  of  trees  on  the  left  of  the  upper  pond  marks 
the  sheltered  and  honored  graves  of  the  British 
soldiers,  where  have  slept  for  one  hundred  and 


7  8  Old  Time  Gardens 

twenty-four  years  those  killed  at  this  memorable 
encounter.  If  anything  could  cement  still  more 
closely  the  affections  of  the  English  and  American 
peoples,  it  would  be  the  sight  of  the  tenderly  shel- 
tered graves  of  British  soldiers  in  America,  such  as 
these  at  Drumthwacket  and  other  historic  fields 
on  our  Eastern  coast.  At  Concord  how  faithfully 
stand  the  sentinel  pines  over  the  British  dead  of  the 
Battle  of  Concord,  who  thus  repose,  shut  out  from 
the  tread  of  heedless  feet  yet  ever  present  for  the 
care  and  thought  of  Concord  people. 

We  have  older  Italian  gardens.  Some  of  them  are 
of  great  loveliness,  among  them  the  unique  and 
dignified  garden  of  Hollis  H.  Hunnewell,  Esq., 
but  many  of  the  newer  ones,  even  in  their  few  sum- 
mers, have  become  of  surprising  grace  and  beauty, 
and  their  exquisite  promise  causes  a  glow  of  delight 
to  every  garden  lover.  I  have  often  tried  to  analyze 
and  account  for  the  great  charm  of  a  formal  garden,  to 
one  who  loves  so  well  the  unrestrained  and  lavished 
blossoming  of  a  flower  border  crowded  with  nature- 
arranged  and  disarranged  blooms.  A  chance  sen- 
tence in  the  letter  of  a  flower-loving  friend,  one 
whose  refined  taste  is  an  inherent  portion  of  her 
nature,  runs  thus  :  — 

"I  have  the  same  love,  the  same  sense  of  perfect  satis- 
faction, in  the  old  formal  garden  that  I  have  in  the  sonnet 
in  poetry,  in  the  Greek  drama  as  contrasted  with  the  mod- 
ern drama  j  something  within  me  is  ever  drawn  toward 
that  which  is  restrained  and  classic." 


Varied  Gardens  Fair  79 

In  these  few  words,  then,  is  defined  the  charm  of 
the  formal  garden  —  a  well-ordered,  a  classic  re- 
straint. 

Some  of  the  new  formal  gardens  seem  imperfect 
in  design  and  inadequate  in  execution;  worse  still,  they 
are  unsuited  to  their  surroundings  ;  but  gracious 
nature  will  give  even  to  these  many  charms  of  color, 
fragrance,  and  shape  through  lavish  plant  growth. 
I  have  had  given  to  me  sets  of  beautiful  photo- 
graphs of  these  new  Italian  gardens,  which  I  long 
to  include  with  my  pictures  of  older  flower  beds  ;  but 
I  cannot  do  so  in  full  in  a  book  on  Old-time  Gar- 
dens, though  they  are  copied  from  far  older  gardens 
than  our  American  ones.  I  give  throughout  my 
book  occasional  glimpses  of  detail  in  modern  formal 
gardens ;  and  two  examples  may  be  fitly  illustrated 
and  described  in  comparative  fulness  in  this  book, 
because  they  are  not  only  unusual  in  their  beauty 
and  promise,  but  because  they  have  in  plan  and  exe- 
cution some  bearing  on  my  special  presentation  of 
gardens.  These  two  are  the  gardens  of  Avonwood 
Court  in  Haverford,  Pennsylvania,  the  country-seat 
of  Charles  E.  Mather,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia;  and  of 
Yaddo,  in  Saratoga,  New  York,  the  country-seat  of 
Spencer  Trask,  Esq.,  of  New  York. 

The  garden  at  Avonwood  Court  was  designed  and 
laid  out  in  1896  by  Mr.  Percy  Ash.  The  flower 
planting  was  done  by  Mr.  John  Cope ;  and  the 
garden  is  delightsome  in  proportions,  contour,  and 
aspect.  Its  claim  to  illustrative  description  in  this 
book  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  is  planted  chiefly  with 
old-fashioned  flowers,  and  its  beds  are  laid  out  and 


8o  Old  Time  Gardens 

bordered  with  thriving  Box  in  a  truly  old-time 
mode.  It  affords  a  striking  example  of  the  beauty 
and  satisfaction  that  can  come  from  the  use  of  Box 
as  an  edging,  and  old-time  flowers  as  a  filling  of 
these  beds.  Among  the  two  hundred  different 
plants  are  great  rows  of  yellow  Day  Lilies  shown 
in  the  view  facing  page  76  ;  regular  plantings  of 
Peonies ;  borders  of  Flower  de  Luce ;  banks  of 
Lilies  of  the  Valley  ;  rows  of  white  Fraxinella  and 
Lupine,  beds  of  fringed  Poppies,  sentinels  of  Yucca 
—  scores  of  old  favorites  have  grown  and  thriven  in 
the  cheery  manner  they  ever  display  when  they  are 
welcome  and  beloved.  The  sun-dial  in  this  garden  is 
shown  facing  page  82  ;  it  was  designed  by  Mr.  Percy 
Ash,  and  can  be  regarded  as  a  model  of  simple  out- 
lines, good  proportions,  careful  placing,  and  sym- 
metrical setting.  By  placing  I  mean  that  it  is  in 
the  right  site  in  relation  to  the  surrounding  flower 
beds,  and  to  the  general  outlines  of  the  garden  ;  it  is 
a  dignified  and  significant  garden  centre.  By  set- 
ting I  mean  its  being  raised  to  proper  prominence 
in  the  garden  scheme,  by  being  placed  at  the  top  of 
a  platform  formed  of  three  circular  steps  of  ample 
proportion  and  suitable  height,  that  its  pedestal  is 
also  of  the  right  size  and  not  so  high  but  one  can, 
when  standing  on  the  top  step,  read  with  ease  the 
dial's  response  to  our  question,  "  What's  the  time 
o'  the  day  ?  "  The  hedges  and  walls  of  Honeysuckle, 
Roses,  and  other  flowering  vines  that  surround  this 
garden  have  thriven  wonderfully  in  the  five  years  of 
the  garden's  life,  and  look  like  settings  of  many 
years.  The  simple  but  graceful  wall  seat  gives 


Sundial  at  Avonwood  Court,  Haverford,  Pennsylvania. 


Varied  Gardens   Fair 


81 


Entrance  Porch  and  Gate  to  the  Rose  Garden  at  Yaddo. 

some  idea  of  the  symmetrical  and  simple  garden 
furnishings,  as  well  as  the  profusion  of  climbing 
vines  that  form  the  garden's  boundaries. 

This  book  bears  on  the  title-page  a  redrawing 
of  a  charming  old  woodcut  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, a  very  good  example  of  the  art  thought  and 
art  execution  of  that  day,  being  the  work  of  a  skil- 
ful designer.  It  is  from  an  old  stilted  treatise  on 
orchards  and  gardens,  and  it  depicts  a  cheerful  little 
Love,  with  anxious  face  and  painstaking  care, 
measuring  and  laying  out  the  surface  of  the  earth 
in  a  garden.  On  his  either  side  are  old  clipped 
Yews  ;  and  at  his  feet  a  spade  and  pots  of  garden 
flowers,  among  them  the  Fritillary  so  beloved  of  all 
flower  lovers  and  herbalists  of  that  day,  a  significant 


82  Old  Time  Gardens 

flower  —  a  flower  of  meaning  and  mystery.  This 
drawing  may  be  taken  as  an  old-time  emblem,  and 
a  happy  one,  to  symbolize  the  making  of  the  beauti- 
ful modern  Rose  Garden  at  Yaddo ;  where  Love, 
with  tenderest  thought,  has  laid  out  the  face  of  the 
earth  in  an  exquisite  garden  of  Roses,  for  the  happi- 
ness and  recreation  of  a  dearly  loved  wife.  The 
noble  entrance  gate  and  porch  of  this  Rose  Garden 
formed  a  happy  surprise  to  the  garden's  mistress 
when  unveiled  at  the  dedication  of  the  garden.  They 
are  depicted  on  page  81,  and  there  may  be  read  the 
inscription  which  tells  in  a  few  well-chosen  words 
the  story  of  the  inspiration  of  the  garden ;  but 
"between  the  lines,"  to  those  who  know  the  Rose 
Garden  and  its  makers,  the  inscription  speaks  with 
even  deeper  meaning  the  story  of  a  home  whose 
beauty  is  only  equalled  by  the  garden's  spirit.  To 
all  such  readers  the  Rose  Garden  becomes  a  fit- 
ting expression  of  the  life  of  those  who  own  it 
and  care  for  it.  This  quality  of  expression,  of 
significance,  may  be  seen  in  many  a  smaller  and 
simpler  garden,  even  in  a  tiny  cottage  plot ;  you 
can  perceive,  through  the  care  bestowed  upon  it, 
and  its  responsive  blossoming,  a  something  which 
shows  the  life  of  the  garden  owners ;  you  know 
that  they  are  thoughtful,  kindly,  beauty-loving, 
home-loving. 

Behind  the  beautiful  pergola  of  the  Yaddo  garden, 
set  thickly  with  Crimson  Rambler,  a  screenlike  row 
of  poplars  divides  the  Rose  Garden  from  a  luxuriant 
Rock  Garden,  and  an  Old-fashioned  Garden  of  large 
extent,  extraordinary  profusion,  and  many  years' 


Varied  Gardens  Fair  83 

growth.  Perhaps  the  latter-named  garden  might 
seem  more  suited  to  my  pages,  since  it  is  more 
advanced  in  growth  and  apparently  more  akin  to 
my  subject ;  but  I  wish  to  write  specially  of  the 
Rose  Garden,  because  it  is  an  unusual  example 
of  what  can  be  accomplished  without  aid  of  archi- 
tect or  landscape  gardener,  when  good  taste,  care- 


Pergola  and  Terrace  Walk  in  Rose  Garden  at  Yaddo. 

ful  thought,  attention  to  detail,  a  love  of  flowers, 
and  intent  to  attain  •perfection  guide  the  garden's 
makers.  It  is  happily  placed  in  a  country  of  most 
charming  topography,  but  it  must  not  be  thought 
that  the  garden  shaped  itself;  its  beautiful  propor- 
tions, contour,  and  shape  were  carefully  studied 
out  and  brought  to  the  present  perfection  by  the 
same  force  that  is  felt  in  the  garden's  smallest 


84 


Old  Time  Gardens 


detail,  the  power  of  Love.  The  Rose  Garden  is 
unusually  large  for  a  formal  garden  ;  with  its  vistas 
and  walks,  the  connected  Daffodil  Dell,  and  the 
Rock  Garden,  it  fills  about  ten  acres.  But  the 


Statue  of  Christalan  in  Rose  Garden  at  Yaddo. 

estate  is  over  eight  hundred  acres,  and  the  house 
very  large  in  ground  extent,  so  the  garden  seems 
well-proportioned.  This  Rose  Garden  has  an 
unusual  attraction  in  the  personal  interest  of  every 
detail,  such  as  is  found  in  few  American  gardens  of 
great  size,  and  indeed  in  few  English  gardens.  The 


Varied  Gardens  Fair  85 

gardens  of  the  Countess  Warwick,  at  Easton  Lodge, 
in  Essex,  possess  the  same  charm,  a  personal  mean- 
ing and  significance  in  the  statues  and  fountains,  and 
even  in  the  planting  of  flower  borders.  The  illus- 
tration on  page  83  depicts  the  general  shape  of  the 
Yaddo  Rose  Garden,  as  seen  from  the  upper  ter- 
race ;  but  it  does  not  show  how  the  garden  stretches 
down  the  fine  marble  steps,  past  the  marble  figures  of 
Diana  and  Paris,  and  along  the  paths  of  standard 
Roses,  past  the  shallow  fountain  which  is  not  so  large 
as  to  obscure  what  speaks  the  garden's  story,  the 
statue  of  Christalan,  that  grand  creation  in  one  of 
Mrs.  Trask's  idyls,  Under  King  Constantine.  This 
heroic  figure,  showing  to  full  extent  the  genius  of 
the  sculptor,  William  Ordway  Partridge,  also  figures 
the  genius  of  the  poet-creator,  and  is  of  an  inexpres- 
sible and  impressive  nobility.  With  hand  and  arm 
held  to  heaven,  Christalan  shows  against  the  back- 
ground of  rich  evergreens  as  the  true  knight  of  this 
garden  of  sentiment  and  chivalry. 

"  The  sunlight  slanting  westward  through  the  trees 
Fell  first  upon  his  lifted,  golden  head, 
Making  a  shining  helmet  of  his  curls, 
And  then  upon  the  Lilies  in  his  hand. 
His  eyes  had  a  defiant,  fearless  glow  ; 
Against  the  sombre  background  of  the  wood 
He  looked  scarce  human. ' ' 

The  larger  and  more  impressive  fountain  at  Yaddo 
is  shown  on  these  pages.  It  is  one  hundred  feet  long 
and  seventy  feet  wide,  and  is  in  front  of  the  house, 
to  the  east.  Its  marble  figures  signify  the  Dawn  ; 


86 


Old  Time  Gardens 


it  will  be  noted  that  on  this  site  its  beauties  show 
against   a    suited    and    ample    background,  and    its 


Sun-dial  in  Rose  Garden  at  Yaddo. 

grand  proportions  are  not  permitted  to  obscure 
the  fine  statue  of  Christalan  from  the  view  of  those 
seated  on  the  terrace  or  walking  under  the  shade  of 
the  pergola. 


Varied  Gardens  Fair 


Especially  beautiful  is  the  sun-dial  on  the  upper 
terrace,  shown  on  page  86.  The  metal  dial  face 
is  supported  by  a  marble  slab  resting  on  two  carved 
standards  of  classic 
design  representing 
conventionalized 
lions,  these  being 
copies  of  those  two 
splendid  standards 
unearthed  at  Pom- 
peii, which  still  may 
be  seen  by  the  side 
of  the  impluvium 
in  the  atrium  or 
main  hall  of  the 
finest  Graeco- 
Roman  dwelling- 
place  which  has 
been  restored  in 
that  wonderful  city.  These  sun-dial  standards  at 
Yaddo  were  made  by  the  permission  and  under  the 
supervision  of  the  Italian  government.  I  can  con- 
ceive nothing  more  fitting  or  more  inspiring  to  the 
imagination  than  that,  telling  as  they  do  the  ston 
of  the  splendor  of  ancient  Pompeii  and  of  the  pass- 
ing centuries,  they  should  now  uphold  to  our  sight 
a  sun-dial  as  if  to  bid  us  note  the  flight  of  time  and 
the  vastness  of  the  past. 

The  entire  sun-dial,  with  its  beautiful  adjuncts  of 
carefully  shaped  marble  seats,  stands  on  a  semicir- 
cular plaza  of  marble  at  the  head  of  the  noble  flight 
of  marble  steps.  The  engraved  metal  dial  face 


Bronze  Face  of  Dial  in  Rose  Garden  at 
Yaddo. 


88  Old  Time  Gardens 

bears  two  exquisite  verses  —  the  gift  of  one  poet  to 
another  —  of  Dr.  Henry  Van  Dyke  to  the  garden's 
mistress,  Katrina  Trask.  These  dial  mottoes  are 
unusual,  and  perfect  examples  of  that  genius  which 
with  a  few  words  can  shape  a  lasting  gem  of  our 
English  tongue.  At  the  edge  of  the  dial  face  is  this 
motto  : 

"  Hours  fly, 
Flowers  die, 
New  Days, 
New  Ways, 
Pass  by  ; 
Love  stays." 

At  the  base  of  the  gnomon  is  the  second  motto :  — 

Time  is 

Too  Slow  for  those  who  Wait, 
Too  Swift  for  those  who  Fear, 
Too  Long  for  those  who  Grieve, 
Too  Short  for  those  who  Rejoice  ; 
But  for  those  who  Love, 

Time  is 

Eternity. 

I  have  for  years  been  a  student  of  sun-dial  lore, 
a  collector  of  sun-dial  mottoes  and  inscriptions,  of 
which  I  have  many  hundreds.  I  know  nowhere, 
either  in  English,  on  English  or  Scotch  sun-dials, 
or  in  the  Continental  tongues,  any  such  exquisite 
dial  legends  as  these  two  —  so  slight  of  form,  so 
simple  in  wording,  so  pure  in  diction,  yet  of  senti- 
ment, of  thought,  how  full!  how  impressive  !  They 
stamp  themselves  forever  on  the  memory  as  beauti- 
ful examples  of  what  James  Russell  Lowell  called 
verbal  magic;  that  wonderful  quality  which  comes, 


Varied  Gardens   Fair 


89 


neither  from  chosen  words,  nor  from  their  careful 
combination    into    sentences,    but    from    something 


Ancient  Pine  in  Garden  at  Yaddo. 

which  is  as  inexplicable  in. its  nature  as  it  is  in  its 
charm. 


o,o  Old  Time  Gardens 

To  tree  lovers  the  gardens  and  grounds  at  Yaddo 
have  glorious  charms  in  their  splendid  trees ;  but 
one  can  be  depicted  here  —  the  grand  native  Pine, 
over  eight  feet  in  diameter,  which,  with  other  stately 
sentinels  of  its  race,  stands  a  sombrely  beautiful 
guard  over  all  this  loveliness. 


CHAPTER    IV 

BOX    EDGINGS 

"They  walked  over  the  crackling  leaves  in  the  garden,  between 
the  lines  of  Box,  breathing  its  fragrance  of  eternity  ;  for  this  is  one 
of  the  odors  which  carry  us  out  of  time  into  the  abysses  of  the 
unbeginning  past  ;  if  we  ever  lived  on  another  ball  of  stone  than 
this,  it  must  be  that  there  was  Box  growing  on  it." 

—  Elsie  Venner,  OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES,    1861. 

O  many  of  us,  besides  Dr.  Holmes, 
the  unique  aroma  of  the  Box, 
cleanly  bitter  in  scent  as  in  taste, 
is  redolent  of  the  eternal  past ;  it 
is  almost  hypnotic  in  its  effect. 
This  strange  power  is  not  felt  by 
all,  nor  is  it  a  present  sensitory 
influence;  it  is  an  hereditary  mem- 
ory, half-known  by  many,  but  fixed  in  its  intensity 
in  those  of  New  England  birth  and  descent,  true 
children  of  the  Puritans;  to  such  ones  the  Box 
breathes  out  the  very  atmosphere  of  New  England's 
past.  I  cannot  see  in  clear  outline  those  prim  gar- 
dens of  centuries  ago,  nor  the  faces  of  those  who 
walked  and  worked  therein  ;  but  I  know,  as  I  stroll 
to-day  between  our  old  Box-edged  borders,  and  in- 
hale the  beloved  bitterness  of  fragrance,  and  gather 
a  stiff  sprig  of  the  beautiful  glossy  leaves,  that  in 
truth  the  garden  lovers  and  garden  workers  of 
91 


92  Old  Time  Gardens 

other  days  walk    beside    me,   though    unseen    and 
unheard. 

About  thirty  years  ago  a  bright  young  Yankee 
girl  went  to  the  island  of  Cuba  as  a  governess  to 
the  family  of  a  sugar  planter.  It  was  regarded  as  a 
somewhat  perilous  adventure  by  her  home-staying 
folk,  and  their  apprehensions  of  ill  were  realized  in 
her  death  there  five  years  later.  This  was  not,  how- 
ever, all  that  happened  to  her.  The  planter's  wife 
had  died  in  this  interval  of  time,  and  she  had  been 
married  to  the  widower.  A  daughter  had  been  born, 
who,  after  her  mother's  death,  was  reared  in  the 
Southern  island,  in  Cuban  ways,  having  scant  and 
formal  communication  with  her  New  England  kin. 
When  this  girl  was  twenty  years  old,  she  came  to 
the  little  Massachusetts  town  where  her  mother  had 
been  reared,  and  met  there  a  group  of  widowed  and 
maiden  aunts,  and  great-aunts.  After  sitting  for  a 
time  in  her  mother's  room  in  the  old  home,  the 
reserve  which  often  exists  between  those  of  the  same 
race  who  should  be  friends  but  whose  lives  have  been 
widely  apart,  and  who  can  never  have  more  than 
a  passing  sight  of  each  other,  made  them  in  serni- 
embarrassment  and  lack  of  resources  of  mutual 
interest  walk  out  into  the  garden.  As  they  passed 
down  the  path  between  high  lines  of  Box,  the  girl 
suddenly  stopped,  looked  in  terror  at  the  gate,  and 
screamed  out  in  fright,  "  The  dog,  the  dog,  save  me, 
he  will  kill  me  !  "  No  dog  was  there,  but  on  that 
very  spot,  between  those  Box  hedges,  thirty  years 
before,  her  mother  had  been  attacked  and  bitten  by 
an  enraged  dog,  to  the  distress  and  apprehension  of 


Box  Edgings  93 

the  aunts,  who  all  recalled  the  occurrence,  as  they 
reassured  the  fainting  and  bewildered  girl.  She,  of 
course,  had  never  known  aught  of  this  till  she  was 
told  it  by  the  old  Box. 

Many  other  instances  of  the  hypnotic  effect  of 
Box  are  known,  and  also  of  its  strong  influence  on 
the  mind  through  memory.  I  know  of  a  man  who 
travelled  a  thousand  miles  to  renew  acquaintance  and 
propose  marriage  to  an  old  sweetheart,  whom  he  had 
not  seen  and  scarcely  thought  of  for  years,  having 
been  induced  to  this  act  wholly  through  memories 
of  her,  awakened  by  a  chance  stroll  in  an  old  Box- 
edged  garden  such  as  those  of  his  youth  ;  at  the  gate 
of  one  of  which  he  had  often  lingered,  after  walking 
home  with  her  from  singing-school.  I  ought  to  be 
able  to  add  that  the  twain  were  married  as  a  result 
of  this  sentimental  memory-awakening  through  the 
old  Box;  but,  in  truth,  they  never  came  very  close 
to  matrimony.  For  when  he  saw  her  he  remained 
absolutely  silent  on  the  subject  of  marriage ;  the 
fickle  creature  forgot  the  Box  scent  and  the  singing- 
school,  while  she  openly  expressed  to  her  friends 
her  surprise  at  his  aged  appearance,  and  her  pity  for 
his  dulness.  For  the  sense  of  sight  is  more  powerful 
than  that  of  smell,  and  the  Box  might  prove  a 
master  hand  at  hinting,  but  it  failed  utterly  in  per- 
manent influence. 

Those  who  have  not  loved  the  Box  for  centuries 
in  the  persons  and  with  the  partial  noses  of  their 
Puritan  forbears,  complain  of  its  curious  scent,  say, 
like  Polly  Peacham,  that  "  they  can't  abear  it,"  and 
declare  that  it  brings  ever  the  thought  of  old  grave- 


94 


Old  Time  Gardens 


yards.  I  have  never  seen  Box  in  ancient  burying- 
grounds,  they  were  usually  too  neglected  to  be  thus 
planted  ;  but  it  was  given  a  limited  space  in  the 
cemeteries  of  the  middle  of  this  century.  Even 
those  borders  have  now  generally  been  dug  up  to 
give  place  to  granite  copings. 

The  scent  of  Box  has  been  aptly  worded  by  Ga- 
briel d'Annunzio,  in  his  Virgin  of  the  Rocks,  in  his 
description  of  a  neglected  garden.  He  calls  it  a 
"bitter  sweet  odor,"  and  he  notes  its  influence  in 
making  his  wanderers  in  this  garden  "  reconstruct 
some  memory  of  their  far-off  childhood." 

The  old  Jesuit  poet  Rapin  writing  in  the  seven- 
teenth century  tells  a  fanciful  tale  that  — 

"  Gardens  of  old,  nor  Art,  nor  Rules  obey'd, 
But  unadorn'd,  or  wild  Neglect  betray' d  ;  " 

that  Flora's  hair  hung  undressed,  neglected  "in  art- 
less tresses,"  until  in  pity  another  nymph  "  around 
her  head  wreath'd  a  Boxen  Bough  "  from  the  fields ; 
which  so  improved  her  beauty  that  trim  edgings 
were  placed  ever  after — "where  flowers  disordered 
once  at  random  grew." 

He  then  describes  the  various  figures  of  Box,  the 
way  to  plant  it,  its  disadvantages,  and  the  associate 
flowers  that  should  be  set  with  it,  all  in  stilted  verse. 

Queen  Anne  was  a  royal  enemy  of  Box.  By  her 
order  many  of  the  famous  Box  hedges  at  Hampton 
Court  were  destroyed ;  by  her  example,  many  old 
Box-edged  gardens  throughout  England  were  rooted 
up.  There  are  manifold  objections  raised  to  Box 
besides  the  dislike  of  its  distinctive  odor :  heavy 


Box  Edgings 


95 


edgings  and  hedges  of  Box  "  take  away  the  heart  of 
the  ground "  and  flowers  pine  within  Box-edged 
borders ;  the  roots  of  Box  on  the  inside  of  the 


Box  Parterre  at  Hampton. 

flower  knot  or  bed,  therefore,  have  to  be  cut  and 
pulled  out  in  order  to  leave  the  earth  free  for  flower 
roots.  It  is  also  alleged  that  Box  harbors  slugs  — 
and  I  fear  it  does. 


96  Old  Time  Gardens 

We  are  told  that  it  is  not  well  to  plant  Box  edg- 
ings in  our  gardens,  because  Box  is  so  frail,  is  so 
easily  winter-killed,  that  it  dies  down  in  ugly  fashion. 
Yet  see  what  great  trees  it  forms,  even  when  un- 
trimmed,  as  in  the  Prince  Garden  (page  31).  It 
is  true  that  Box  does  not  always  flourish  in  the 
precise  shape  you  wish,  but  it  has  nevertheless  a 
wonderfully  tenacious  hold  on  life.  I  know  nothing 
more  suggestive  of  persistence  and  of  sad  sentiment 
than  the  view  often  seen  in  forlorn  city  enclosures, 
as  you  drive  past,  or  rush  by  in  an  electric  car,  of 
an  aged  bush  of  Box,  or  a  few  feet  of  old  Box  hedge 
growing  in  the  beaten  earth  of  a  squalid  back  yard, 
surrounded  by  dirty  tenement  houses.  Once  a  fair 
garden  there  grew ;  the  turf  and  flowers  and  trees 
are  vanished  ;  but  spared  through  accident,  or  be- 
cause deemed  so  valueless,  the  Box  still  lives.  Even 
in  Washington  and  other  Southern  cities,  where  the 
negro  population  eagerly  gather  Box  at  Christmas- 
tide,  you  will  see  these  forlorn  relics  of  the  garden 
still  growing,  and  their  bitter  fragrance  rises  above 
the  vile  odors  of  the  crowded  slums. 

Box  formed  an  important  feature  of  the  garden  of 
Pliny's  favorite  villa  in  Tuscany,  which  he  described 
in  his  letter  to  Apollinaris.  How  I  should  have 
loved  its  formal  beauty  !  On  the  southern  front  a 
terrace  was  bordered  with  a  Box  hedge  and  "  embel- 
lished with  various  figures  in  Box,  the  representa- 
tion of  divers  animals."  Beyond  was  a  circus 
formed  around  by  ranges  of  Box  rising  in  walls 
of  varied  heights.  The  middle  of  this  circus  was 
ornamented  with  figures  of  Box.  On  one  side  was  a 


Box  Edgings  97 

hippodrome  set  with  a  plantation  of  Box  trees  backed 
with  Plane  trees  ;  thence  ran  a  straight  walk  divided 
by  Box  hedges  into  alleys.  Thus  expanses  were 
enclosed,  one  of  which  held  a  beautiful  meadow, 
another  had  "  knots  of  Plane  tree,"  another  was 
"  set  with  Box  a  thousand  different  forms."  Some 
of  these  were  letters  expressing  the  name  of  the 
owner  of  all  this  extravagance ;  or  the  initials  of 
various  fair  Roman  dames,  a  very  gallant  pleasantry 
of  young  Pliny.  Both  Plane  tree  and  Box  tree  of 
such  ancient  gardens  were  by  tradition  nourished 
with  wine  instead  of  water.  Initials  of  Box  may  be 
seen  to-day  in  English  gardens,  and  heraldic  devices. 
French  gardens  vied  with  English  gardens  in  curious 
patterns  in  Box.  The  garden  of  Versailles  during 
the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  had  a  stag  chase,  in  clipped 
Box,  with  greyhounds  in  chase.  Globes,  pyramids, 
tubes,  cylinders,  cones,  arches,  and  other  shapes  were 
cut  in  Box  as  they  were  in  Yew. 

A  very  pretty  conceit  in  Box  was  — 

"  Horizontal  dials  on  the  ground 
In  living  Box  by  cunning  artists  traced." 

Reference  is  frequent  enough  to  these  dials  of 
Box  to  show  that  they  were  not  uncommon  in  fine 
old  English  gardens.  There  were  sun-dials  either 
of  Box  or  Thrift,  in  the  gardens  of  colleges  both 
at  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  as  may  be  seen  in  Log- 
gan's  Views.  Two  modern  ones  are  shown  ;  one, 
on  page  98,  is  in  the  garden  of  Lady  Lennox,  at 
Broughton  Castle,  Banbury,  England.  Another  of 
exceptionally  fine  growth  and  trim  perfection  in  the 


98 


Old  Time  Gardens 


garden  at  Ascott,  the  seat  of  Mr.  Leopold  de  Roths- 
child (opposite  page  100.)  These  are  curious  rather 
than  beautiful,  but  display  well  that  quality  given  in 
the  poet's  term  "the  tonsile  Box." 


Sun-dia 


hton  Castle. 


Writing  of  a  similar  sun-dial,  Lady  Warwick 
says  :  — 

"Never  was  such  a  perfect  timekeeper  as  my  sun-dial, 
and  the  figures  which  record  the  hours  are  all  cut  out  and 
trimmed  in  Box,  and  there  again  on  its  outer  ring  is  a  le- 
gend which  read  in  whatever  way  you  please  :  Les  heures 
heureuses  ne  se  comptent  pas.  They  were  outlined  for 
me,  those  words,  in  baby  sprigs  of  Box  by  a  friend  who  is 
no  more,  who  loved  my  garden  and  was  good  to  it." 


Box  Edgings  99 

Box  hedges  were  much  esteemed  in  England  — 
so  says  Parkinson,  to  dry  linen  on,  affording  the 
raised  expanse  and  even  surface  so  much  desired.  It 
can  always  be  noted  in  all  domestic  records  of  early 
days  that  the  vast  washing  of  linen  and  clothing 
was  one  of  the  great  events  of  the  year.  Sometimes, 
in  households  of  plentiful  supply,  these  washings 
were  done  but  once  a  year ;  in  other  homes,  semi- 
annually.  The  drying  and  bleaching  linen  was  an 
unceasing  attraction  to  rascals  like  Autolycus,  who 
had  a  "pugging  tooth"  —  that  is,  a  prigging  tooth. 
These  linen  thieves  had  a  special  name,  they  were 
called  "  prygmen " ;  they  wandered  through  the 
country  on  various  pretexts,  men  and  their  doxies, 
and  were  the  bane  of  English  housewives. 

The  Box  hedges  were  also  in  constant  use  to  hold 
the  bleaching  webs  of  homespun  and  woven  flaxen 
and  hempen  stuff,  which  were  often  exposed  for 
weeks  in  the  dew  and  sunlight.  In  1710  a  reason 
given  for  the  disuse  and  destruction  of  "  quicksetted 
arbors  and  hedges  "  was  that  they  "  agreed  very  ill 
with  the  ladies'  muslins." 

Box  was  of  little  value  in  the  apothecary  shop,  was 
seldom  used  in  medicine.  Parkinson  said  that  the 
leaves  and  dust  of  boxwood  "  boyld  in  lye  "  would 
make  hair  to  be  "  of  an  Aborne  or  Abraham  color" 
—  that  is,  auburn.  This  was  a  very  primitive  hair 
dye,  but  it  must  have  been  a  powerful  one. 

Boxwood  was  a  firm,  beautiful  wood,  used  to 
make  tablets  for  inscriptions  of  note.  The  mottled 
wood  near  the  root  was  called  dudgeon.  Holland's 
translation  of  Pliny  says,  "  The  Box  tree  seldome 


ioo  Old  Time  Gardens 

hath  any  grain  crisped  damaske-wise,  and  never 
but  about  the  root,  the  which  is  dudgin."  From 
its  esteemed  use  for  dagger  hilts  came  the  word 
dudgeon-dagger,  and  the  terms  "  drawn-dudgeon  " 
and  "  high-dudgeon,"  meaning  offence  or  discord. 

I  plead  for  the  Box,  not  for  its  fragrance,  for  you 
may  not  be  so  fortunate  as  to  have  a  Puritan  sense 
of  smell,  nor  for  its  weird  influence,  for  that  is  in- 
tangible ;  but  because  it  is  the  most  becoming  of 
all  edgings  to  our  garden  borders  of  old-time  flow- 
ers. The  clear  compact  green  of  its  shining  leaves, 
the  trim  distinctness  of  its  clipped  lines,  the  attri- 
butes that  made  Pope  term  it  the  "  shapely  Box," 
make  it  the  best  of  all  foils  for  the  varied  tints  of 
foliage,  the  many  colors  of  bloom,  and  the  careless 
grace  in  growth  of  the  flowers  within  the  border. 

Box  edgings  are  pleasant,  too,  in  winter,  showing 
in  grateful  relief  against  the  tiresome  monotony  of 
the  snow  expanse.  And  they  bear  sometimes  a 
crown  of  lightest  snow  wreaths,  which  seem  like  a 
white  blossoming  in  promise  of  the  beauties  of  the 
border  in  the  coming  summer.  Pick  a  bit  of  this 
winter  Box,  even  with  the  mercury  below  zero.  Lo  ! 
you  have  a  breath  of  the  hot  dryness  of  the  mid- 
summer garden. 

Box  grows  to  great  size,  even  twenty  feet  in 
height.  In  Southern  gardens,  where  it  is  seldom 
winter-killed,  it  is  often  of  noble  proportions.  In 
the  lovely  garden  of  Martha  Washington  at  Mount 
Vernon  the  Box  is  still  preserved  in  the  beauty  and 
interest  of  its  original  form. 

The    Box    edgings    and    hedges   of   many   other 


Box  Edgings  101 

Southern  gardens  still  are  in  good  condition  ;  those 
of  the  old  Preston  homestead  at  Columbia,  South 
Carolina  (shown  on  pages  15  and  18,  and  facing 
page  54),  owe  their  preservation  during  the  Civil 
War  to  the  fact  that  the  house  was  then  the  refuge 
of  a  sisterhood  of  nuns.  The  Ridgely  estate, 
Hampton,  in  County  Baltimore,  Maryland,  has  a 
formal  garden  in  which  the  perfection  of  the  Box  is 
a  delight.  The  will  of  Captain  Charles  Ridgely,  in 
1787,  made  an  appropriation  of  money  and  land  for 
this  garden.  The  high  terrace  which  overlooks  the 
garden  and  the  shallow  ones  which  break  the  south- 
ern slope  and  mark  the  boundaries  of  each  parterre 
are  fine  examples  of  landscape  art,  and  are  said  to  be 
the  work  of  Major  Chase  Barney,  a  famous  military 
engineer.  By  1829  the  garden  was  an  object  of 
beauty  and  much  renown.  A  part  only  of  the  origi- 
nal parterre  remains,  but  the  more  modern  flower  bor- 
ders, through  the  unusual  perspective  and  contour 
of  the  garden,  do  not  clash  with  the  old  Box-edged 
beds.  These  edgings  were  reset  in  1870,  and  are 
always  kept  very  closely  cut.  The  circular  domes 
of  clipped  box  arise  from  stems  at  least  a  hundred 
years  old.  The  design  of  the  parterre  is  so  satis- 
factory that  I  give  three  views  of  it  in  order  to 
show  it  fully.  (See  pages  57,  60,  and  95.) 

A  Box-edged  garden  of  much  beauty  and  large 
extent  existed  for  some  years  in  the  grounds  con- 
nected with  the  County  Jai/  in  Fitchburg,  Massa- 
chusetts. It  was  laid  out  by  the  wife  of  the  warden, 
aided  by  the  manual  labor  of  convicted  prisoners, 
with  her  earnest  hope  that  working  among  flowers 


IO2  Old  Time  Gardens 

would  have  a  benefiting  and  softening  influence 
on  these  criminals.  She  writes  rather  dubiously  : 
"  They  all  enjoyed  being  out  of  doors  with  their 
pipes,  whether  among  the  flowers  or  the  vegetables ; 
and  no  attempt  at  escape  was  ever  made  by  any 
of  them  while  in  the  comparative  freedom  of  the 
flower-garden."  She  planted  and  marked  distinctly 
in  this  garden  over  seven  hundred  groups  of  an- 
nuals and  hardy  perennials,  hoping  the  men  would 
care  to  learn  the  names  of  the  flowers,  and  through 
that  knowledge,  and  their  practise  in  the  care  of 
Box  edgings  and  hedges,  be  able  to  obtain  positions 
as  under-gardeners  when  their  terms  of  imprison- 
ment expired. 

The  garden  at  Tudor  Place,  the  home  of  Mrs. 
Beverley  Kennon  (page  103),  displays  fine  Box; 
and  the  garden  of  the  poet  Longfellow  which  is 
said  to  have  been  laid  out  after  the  Box-edged 
parterres  at  Versailles.  Throughout  this  book  are 
scattered  several  good  examples  of  Box  from  Salem 
and  other  towns ;  in  a  sweet,  old  garden  on  Kings- 
ton Hill,  Rhode  Island  (page  104)  the  flower-beds 
are  anchor-shaped. 

In  favorable  climates  Box  edgings  may  grow  in 
such  vigor  as  to  entirely  fill  the  garden  beds.  An 
example  of  this  is  given  on  page  105,  showing  the 
garden  at  Tuckahoe.  The  beds  were  laid  out  over 
a  large  space  of  ground  in  a  beautiful  design,  which 
still  may  be  faintly  seen  by  examining  the  dark  ex- 
panse beside  the  house,  which  is  now  almost,  solid 
Box.  The  great  hedges  by  the  avenue  are  also 
Box ;  between  similar  ones  at  Uhpton  Court  in 


Box  Edgings 


103 


Camden,  South  Carolina,  riders  on  horseback  can- 
not be  seen  nor  see  over  it.  New  England  towns 
seldom  show  such  growth  of  Box  ;  but  in  Hingham, 
Massachusetts,  at  the  home  of  Mrs.  Robbins,  author 
of  that  charming  book,  The  Rescue  of  an  Old  Place, 


Garden  at  Tudor  Place. 

there  is  a  Box  bower,  with  walls  of  Box  fifteen  feet 
in  height.  These  walls  were  originally  the  edgings 
of  a  flower  bed  on  the  "  Old  Place."  Read  Dr. 
John  Brown's  charming  account  of  the  Box  bower 
of  the  "Queen's  Maries." 

Box  grows  on  Long  Island  with  great  vigor.     At 
Brecknock  Hall,  the  family  residence  of  Mrs.  Albert 


io4 


Old  Time  Gardens 


Delafield  at  Greenport,  Long  Island,  the  hedges  of 
plain  and  variegated  Box  are  unusually  fine,  and  the 
paths  are  well  laid  out.  Some  of  them  are  entirely 
covered  by  the  closing  together  of  the  two  hedges 
which  are  often  six  or  seven  feet  in  height. 

In  spite  of  the  constant  assertion  of  the  winter 
killing  of   Box   in  the    North,  the  oldest    Box    in 


Anchor-shaped  Flower-beds,   Kingston,  Rhode  Island. 

the  country  is  that  at  Sylvester  Manor,  Shelter 
Island,  New  York.  The  estate  is  now  owned  by 
the  tenth  mistress  of  the  manor,  Miss  Cornelia 
Horsford ;  the  first  mistress  of  the  manor,  Grissel 
Sylvester,  who  had  been  Grissel  Gardiner,  came 
there  in  1652.  It  is  told,  and  is  doubtless  true,  that 
she  brought  there  the  first  Box  plants,  to  make,  in 
what  was  then  a  far-away  island,  a  semblance  of  her 


Box  Edgings 


105 


home  garden.  It  is  said  that  this  Box  was  thriving 
in  Madam  Sylvester's  garden  when  George  Fox 
preached  there  to  the  Indians.  The  oldest  Box  is 
fifteen  or  eighteen  feet  high  ;  not  so  tall,  I  think,  as 
the  neglected  Box  at  Vaucluse,  the  old  Hazard  place 
near  Newport,  but  far  more  massive  and  thrifty  and 
shapely.  Box  needs  unusual  care  and  judgment,  an 
instinct  almost,  for  the  removal  of  certain  portions. 


Ancient  Box  at  Tuckakoe. 

It  sends  out  tiny  rootlets  at  the  joints  of  the  sprays, 
and  these  grow  readily.  The  largest  and  oldest 
Box  bushes  at  Sylvester  Manor  garden  are  a  study 
in  their  strong,  hearty  stems,  their  perfect  foliage, 
their  symmetry;  they  show  their  care  of  centuries. 
The  delightful  Box-edged  flower  beds  were  laid 
out  in  their  present  form  about  seventy  years  ago 
by  the  grandfather  of  the  present  owner.  There 
is  a  Lower  Garden,  a  Terrace  Garden,  which  are 
shown  on  succeeding  pages,  a  Fountain  Garden,  a 


106  Old  Time  Gardens 

Rose  Garden,  a  Water  Garden  ;  a  bit  of  the  latter  is 
on  page  75.  In  some  portions  of  these  gardens, 
especially  on  the  upper  terrace,  the  Box  is  so  high, 
and  set  in  such  quaint  and  rambling  figures,  that  it 
closely  approaches  an  old  English  maze;  and  it  was 
a  pretty  sight  to  behold  a  group  of  happy  little 
children  running  in  and  out  among  these  Box  hedges 
that  extended  high  over  their  heads,  searching  long 
and  eagerly  for  the  central  bower  where  their  little 
tea  party  was  set. 

Over  these  old  garden  borders  hangs  literally  an 
atmosphere  of  the  past ;  the  bitter  perfume  stimu- 
lates the  imagination  as  we  walk  by  the  side  of 
these  splendid  Box  bushes,  and  think,  as  every  one 
must,  of  what  they  have  seen,  of  what  they  know ; 
on  this  garden  is  written  the  history  of  over  two 
centuries  of  beautiful  domestic  home  life.  It  is  well 
that  we  still  have  such  memorials  to  teach  us  the 
nobility  and  beauty  of  such  a  life. 


CHAPTER   V 


THE    HERB    GARDEN 

"To  have  nothing  here  but  Sweet  Herbs,  and  those  only  choice 
ones  too,  and  every  kind  its  bed  by  itself." 

—  DESIDERIUS  ERASMUS,  1500. 


N  Montaigne's  time  it  was  the 
custom  to  dedicate  special  chap- 
ters of  books  to  special  persons. 
Were  it  so  to-day,  I  should  dedi- 
cate this  chapter  to  the  memory 
of  a  friend  who  has  been  con- 
stantly in  my  mind  while  writing 
it ;  for  she  formed  in  her  beautiful  garden,  near  our 
modern  city,  Chicago,  the  only  perfect  herb  garden 
I  know,  —  a  garden  that  is  the  counterpart  of  the 
garden  of  Erasmus,  made  four  centuries  ago;  for 
in  it  are  "  nothing  but  Sweet  Herbs,  and  choice 
ones  too,  and  every  kind  its  bed  by  itself."  A 
corner  of  it  is  shown  on  page  108.  This  herb 
garden  is  so  well  laid  out  that  I  will  give  direc- 
tions therefrom  for  a  bed  of  similar  planting.  It 
may  be  placed  at  the  base  of  a  grass  bank  or  at 
the  edge  of  a  garden.  Let  two  garden  walks  be  laid 
out,  one  at  the  lower  edge,  perhaps,  of  the  bank, 
the  other  parallel,  ten,  fifteen,  twenty  feet  away. 
Let  narrow  paths  be  left  at  regular  intervals  running 
107 


io8 


Old  Time  Gardens 


parallel  from  walk  to  walk,  as  do  the  rounds  of  a 
ladder  from  the  two  side  bars.  In  the  narrow  oblong 
beds  formed  by  these  paths  plant  solid  rows  of 
herbs,  each  variety  by  itself,  with  no  attempt  at 
diversity  of  design.  You  can  thus  walk  among  them, 
and  into  them,  and  smell  them  in  their  concentrated 
strength,  and  you  can  gather  them  at  ease.  On  the 
bank  can  be  placed  the  creeping  Thyme,  and  other 


Herb  Garden  at  White  Birches,   Elmhurst,   Illinois. 

low-running  herbs.  Medicinal  shrubs  should  be  the 
companions  of  the  herbs;  plant  these  as  you  will, 
according  to  their  growth  and  habit,  making  them 
give  variety  of  outline  to  the  herb  garden. 

There  are  few  persons  who  have  a  strong  enough 
love  of  leaf  scents,  or  interest  in  herbs,  to  make 
them  willing  to  spend  much  time  in  working  in 
an  herb  garden.  The  beauty  and  color  of  flowers 
would  compensate  them,  but  not  the  growth  or 


The  Herb  Garden  109 

scent  of  leafage.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  to 
one  who  does  not  feel  by  instinct  "  the  lure  of 
green  things  growing,"  the  curious  stimulation,  the 
sense  of  intoxication,  of  .delight,  brought  by  working 
among  such  green-growing,  sweet-scented  things. 
The  maker  of  this  interesting  garden  felt  this  stimu- 
lation and  delight ;  and  at  her  city  home  on  a 
bleak  day  in  December  we  both  revelled  in  holding 
and  breathing  in  the  scent  of  tiny  sprays  of  Rue, 
Rosemary,  and  Balm  which,  still  green,  had  been 
gathered  from  beneath  fallen  leaves  and  stalks  in 
her  country  garden,  as  a  tender  and  grateful  atten- 
tion of  one  herb  lover  to  another.  Thus  did  she 
prove  Shakespeare's  words  true  even  on  the  shores 
of  Lake  Michigan  :  — 

"  Rosemary  and  Rue:   these  keep 

Seeming  and  savor  all  the  winter  long." 

There  is  ample  sentiment  in  the  homely  inhabi- 
tants of  the  herb  garden.  The  herb  garden  of  the 
Countess  of  Warwick  is  called  by  her  a  Garden  of 
Sentiment.  Each  plant  is  labelled  with  a  pottery 
marker,  swallow-shaped,  bearing  in  ineradicable 
colors  the  flower  name  and  its  significance.  Thus 
there  is  Balm  for  sympathy,  Bay  for  glory,  Fox- 
glove for  sincerity,  Basil  for  hatred. 

A  recent  number  of  The  Garden  deplored  the  dying 
out  of  herbs  in  old  English  gardens  ;  so  I  think 
it  may  prove  of  interest  to  give  the  list  of  herbs 
and  medicinal  shrubs  and  trees  which  grew  in  this 
friend's  herb  garden  in  the  new  world  across  the  sea. 


no  Old  Time  Gardens 

Arnica,  Anise,  Ambrosia,  Agrimony,  Aconite. 

Belladonna,  Black  Alder,  Betony,  Boneset  or  Thorough- 
wort,  Sweet  Basil,  Bryony,  Borage,  Burnet,  Butternut, 
Balm,  Melissa  officinalis,  Balm  (variegated),  Bee-balm,  or 
Oswego  tea,  mild,  false,  and  true  Bergamot,  Burdock, 
Bloodroot,  Black  Cohosh,  Barberry,  Bittersweet,  Butterfly- 
weed,  Birch,  Blackberry,  Button-Snakeroot,  Buttercup. 

Costmary,  or  Sweet  Mary,  Calamint,  Choke-cherry, 
Comfrey,  Coriander,  Cumin,  Catnip,  Caraway,  Chives, 
Castor-oil  Bean,  Colchicum,  Cedronella,  Camomile,  Chic- 
ory, Cardinal-flower,  Celandine,  Cotton,  Cranesbill,  Cow- 
parsnip,  High-bush  Cranberry. 

Dogwood,  Dutchman's-pipe,  Dill,  Dandelion,  Dock, 
Dogbane. 

Elder,  Elecampane,  Slippery  Elm. 

Sweet  Fern,  Fraxinella,  Fennel,  Flax,  P^umitory,  Fig, 
Sweet  Flag,  Blue  Flag,  Foxglove. 

Goldthread,  Gentian,  Goldenrod. 

Hellebore,  Henbane,  Hops,  Horehound,  Hyssop,  Horse- 
radish, Horse-chestnut,  Hemlock,  Small  Hemlock  or 
Fool's  Parsley. 

American  Ipecac,  Indian  Hemp,  Poison  Ivy,  wild, 
false,  and  blue  Indigo,  wild  yellow  Indigo,  wild  white 
Indigo. 

Juniper,  Joepye-weed. 

Lobelia,  Lovage,  Lavender  Lemon  Verbena,  Lemon, 
Mountain  Laurel,  Yellow  Lady's-slippers,  Lily  of  the  Val- 
ley, Liverwort,  Wild  Lettuce,  Field  Larkspur,  Lungwort. 

Mosquito  plant,  Wild  Mint,  Motherwort,  Mullein,  Sweet 
Marjoram,  Meadowsweet,  Marshmallow,  Mandrake,  Mul- 
berry, black  and  white  Mustard,  Mayweed,  Mugwort, 
Marigold. 

Nigella. 

Opium  Poppy,  Orange,  Oak. 

Pulsatilla,  Pellitory  or  Pyrethrum,  Red   Pepper,  Pepper- 


The   Herb  Garden 


in 


Garden  at  White  Birches,   Elmhurst,  Illinois. 


mint,    Pennyroyal,    False    Pennyroyal,    Pope-weed,    Pine, 
Pigweed,  Pumpkin,  Parsley,  Prince's-pine,  Peony,  Plantain. 
Rhubarb,  Rue,  Rosemary,  Rosa  gallica,  Dog  Rose. 


112  Old  Time  Gardens 

Sassafras,  Saxifrage,  Sweet  Cicely,  Sage  (common  blue), 
Sage  (red),  Summer  Savory,  Winter  Savory,  Santonin, 
Sweet  Woodruff,  Saffron,  Spearmint,  wild  Sarsaparilla, 
Black  Snakeroot,  Squills,  Senna,  St.-John's-Wort,  Sorrel, 
Spruce  Fir,  Self-heal,  Southernwood. 

Thorn  Apple,  Tansy,  Thyme,  Tobacco,  Tarragon. 

Valerian,  Dogtooth  Violet,  Blue  Violet. 

Witchhazel,  We-mwood,  Wintergreen,  Willow,  Walnut. 

Yarrow. 

It  will  be  noted  that  some  common  herbs  and 
medicinal  plants  are  missing ;  there  is,  for  instance, 
no  Box;  it  will  not  live  in  that  climate;  and  there 
are  many  other  herbs  which  this  garden  held  for  a 
short  time,  but  which  succumbed  under  the  fierce 
winter  winds  from  Lake  Michigan. 

It  is  interesting  to  compare  this  list  with  one 
made  in  rhyme  three  centuries  ago,  the  garland  of 
herbs  of  the  nymph  Lelipa  in  Drayton's  Muse 'j 
Efyzium. 

"A  chaplet  then  of  Herbs  I'll  make 

Than  which  though  yours  be  braver, 
Yet  this  of  mine  I'll  undertake 

Shall  not  be  short  in  savour. 
With  Basil  then  I  will  begin, 

Whose  scent  is  wondrous  pleasing  : 
This  Eglantine  I'll  next  put  in 

The  sense  with  sweetness  seizing. 
Then  in  my  Lavender  I  lay 

Muscado  put  among  it, 
With  here  and  there  a  leaf  of  Bay, 

Which  still  shall  run  along  it. 
Germander,  Marjoram  and  Thyme, 

Which  used  are  for  strewing  ; 
With  Hyssop  as  an  herb  most  prime 


The  Herb  Garden  113 

Here  in  my  wreath  bestowing. 
Then  Balm  and  Mint  help  to  make  up 

My  chaplet,  and  for  trial 
Costmary  that  so  likes  the  Cup, 

And  next  it  Pennyroyal. 
Then  Burnet  shall  bear  up  with  this, 

Whose  leaf  I  greatly  fancy  ; 
Some  Camomile  doth  not  amiss 

With  Savory  and  some  Tansy. 
Then  here  and  there  I'll  put  a  sprig 

Of  Rosemary  into  it, 
Thus  not  too  Little  nor  too  Big, 

'Tis  done  if  I  can  do  it." 

Another  name  for  the  herb  garden  was  the  olitory  ; 
and  the  word  herber,  or  herbar,  would  at  first  sight 
appear  to  be  an  herbarium,  an  herb  garden  ;  it  was 
really  an  arbor.  I  have  such  satisfaction  in  herb 
gardens,  and  in  the  herbs  themselves,  and  in  all 
their  uses,  all  their  lore,  that  I  am  confirmed  in  my 
belief  that  I  really  care  far  less  for  Botany  than  for 
that  old-time  regard  and  study  of  plants  covered  by 
the  significant  name,  Wort-cunning.  Wort  was  a 
good  old  common  English  word,  lost  now  in  our  use, 
save  as  the  terminal  syllable  of  certain  plant-names; 
it  is  a  pity  we  have  given  it  up  since  its  equivalent, 
herb,  seems  so  variable  in  application,  especially  in 
that  very  trying  expression  of  which  we  weary 
so  of  late  —  herbaceous  border.  This  seems  an 
architect's  phrase  rather  than  a  florist's  ;  you  always 
find  it  on  the  plans  of  fine  houses  with  gardens.  To 
me  it  annihilates  every  possibility  of  sentiment,  and 
it  usually  isn't  correct,  since  many  of  the  plants  in 
these  borders  are  woody  perennials  instead  of  an- 


ii4  Old  Time  Gardens 

nuals;   any  garden  planting  that  is  not  "bedding- 
out"  is  wildly  named  "an  herbaceous  border." 

Herb  gardens  were  no  vanity  and  no  luxury  in 
our  grandmothers'  day  ;  they  were  a  necessity.  To 
them  every  good  housewife  turned  for  nearly  all 
that  gave  variety  to  her  cooking,  and  to  fill  her 
domestic  pharmacopoeia.  The  physician  placed  his 
chief  reliance  for  supplies  on  herb  gardens  and  the 
simples  of  the  fields.  An  old  author  says,  "  Many 
an  old  wife  or  country  woman  doth  often  more 
good  with  a  few  known  and  common  garden  herbs, 
than  our  bombast  physicians,  with  all  their  pro- 
digious, sumptuous,  far-fetched,  rare,  conjectural 
medicines."  Doctor  and  goodwife  both  had  a  rival 
in  the  parson.  The  picture  of  the  country  parson 
and  his  wife  given  by  old  George  Herbert  was 
equally  true  of  the  New  England  minister  and  his 
wife  :  — 

"  In  the  knowledge  of  simples  one  thing  would  be  care- 
fully observed,  which  is  to  know  what  herbs  may  be  used 
instead  of  drugs  of  the  same  nature,  and  to  make  the  garden 
the  shop  ;  for  home-bred  medicines  are  both  more  easy  for 
the  parson's  purse,  and  more  familiar  for  all  men's  bodies. 
So  when  the  apothecary  useth  either  for  loosing  Rhubarb, 
or  for  binding  Bolearmana,  the  parson  useth  damask  or 
white  Rose  for  the  one,  and  Plantain,  Shepherd's  Purse,  and 
Knot-grass  for  the  other;  and  that  with  better  success. 
As  for  spices,  he  doth  not  only  prefer  home-bred  things 
before  them,  but  condemns  them  for  vanities,  and  so  shuts 
them  out  of  his  family,  esteeming  that  there  is  no  spice 
comparable  for  herbs  to  Rosemary,  Thyme,  savory  Mints, 
and  for  seeds  to  Fennel  and  Caraway.  Accordingly,  for 


The  Herb  Garden  115 

salves,  his  wife  seeks  not  the  city,  but  prefers  her  gardens 
and  fields  before  all  outlandish  gums." 

Simples  were  medicinal  plants,  so  called  because 
each  of  these  vegetable  growths  was  held  to  possess 
an  individual  virtue,  to  be  an  element,  a  simple 
substance  constituting  a  single  remedy.  The  noun 
was  generally  used  in  the  plural. 

You  must  not  think  that  sowing,  gathering,  dry- 
ing, and  saving  these  herbs  and  simples  in  any  con- 
venient or  unstudied  way  was  all  that  was  necessary. 
Not  at  all ;  many  and  manifold  were  the  rules  just 
when  to  plant  them,  when  to  pick  them,  how  to  pick 
them,  how  to  dry  them,  and  even  how  to  keep  them. 
Gervayse  Markham  was  very  wise  in  herb  lore,  in 
the  suited  seasons  of  the  moon,  and  hour  of  the  day 
or  night,  for  herb  culling.  In  the  garret  of  every  old 
house,  such  as  that  of  the  Ward  Homestead,  shown 
on  page  116,  with  the  wreckage  of  house  furniture, 
were  hung  bunches  of  herbs  and  simples,  waiting  for 
winter  use. 

The  still-room  was  wholly  devoted  to  storing 
these  herbs  and  manufacturing  their  products.  This 
was  the  careful  work  of  the  house  mistress  and  her 
daughters.  It  was  not  intrusted  to  servants.  One 
book  of  instruction  was  entitled,  The  Vertuouse  Eoke 
of  Distyllacyon  of  the  Waters  of  all  Manner  of  Herbs. 

Thomas  Tusser  wrote  :  — 

"  Good  huswives  provide,  ere  an  sickness  do  come, 
Of  sundrie  good  things  in  house  to  have  some, 
Good  aqua  composita,  vinegar  tart, 
Rose  water  and  treacle  to  comfort  the  heart, 


Ii6  Old  Time  Gardens 

Good  herbes  in  the  garden  for  agues  that  burn, 
That  over  strong  heat  to  good  temper  turn." 

Both  still-room  and  simple-closet  of  a  dame  of 
the  time  of  Queen   Elizabeth  or  Queen  Anne  had 


Under  the  Garret  Eaves  of  the  Ward  Homestead,  Shrewsbury, 
Massachusetts. 

crowded  shelves.  Many  an  herb  and  root,  unused 
to-day,  was  deemed  then  of  sovereign  worth.  From 
a  manuscript  receipt  book  I  have  taken  names  of 


The  Herb  Garden  117 

ingredients,  many  of  which  are  seldom,  perhaps 
never,  used  now  in  medicine.  Unripe  Blackber- 
ries, Ivy  berries,  Eglantine  berries,  "  Ashen  Keys," 
Acorns,  stones  of  Sloes,  Parsley  seed,  Houseleeks, 
unripe  Hazelnuts,  Daisy  roots,  Strawberry  "strings," 
Woodbine  tops,  the  inner  bark  of  Oak  and  of  red 
Filberts,  green  "  Broom  Cod,"  White  Thorn  berries, 
Turnips,  Barberry  bark,  Dates,  Goldenrod,  Gourd 
seed,  Blue  Lily  roots,  Parsnip  seed,  Asparagus  roots, 
Peony  roots. 

From  herbs  and  simples  were  made,  for  internal 
use,  liquid  medicines  such  as  wines  and  waters, 
syrups,  juleps ;  and  solids,  such  as  conserves,  con- 
fections, treacles,  eclegms,  tinctures.  There  were 
for  external  use,  amulets,  oils,  ointments,  liniments, 
plasters,  cataplasms,  salves,  poultices  ;  also  sacculi, 
little  bags  of  flowers,  seeds,  herbs,  etc.,  and  poman- 
ders and  posies. 

That  a  certain  stimulus  could  be  given  to  the  brain 
by  inhaling  the  scent  of  these  herbs  will  not  be 
doubted,  I  think,  by  the  herb  lover  even  of  this 
century.  In  the  Haven  of  Health^  1636,  cures 
were  promised  by  sleeping  on  herbs,  smelling  of 
them,  binding  the  leaves  on  the  forehead,  and  in- 
haling the  vapors  of  their  boiling  or  roasting. 
Mint  was  "  a  good  Posie  for  Students  to  oft  smell." 
Pennyroyal  "quickened  the  brain  by  smelling  oft." 
Basil  cleared  the  wits,  and  so 'on. 

The  use  of  herbs  in  medicine  is  far  from  being 
obsolete;  and  when  we  give  them  more  stately  names 
we  swallow  the  same  dose.  Dandelion  bitters  is  still 
used  for  diseases  caused  by  an  ill-working  liver. 


n8  Old  Time  Gardens 

Wintergreen,  which  was  universally  made  into  tea  or 
oil  for  rheumatism,  appears  now  in  prescriptions  for 
the  same  disease  under  the  name  of  Gaultheria. 
Peppermint,  once  a  sovereign  cure  for  heartburn 
and  "  nuralogy,"  serves  us  decked  with  the  title  of 
Menthol.  "  Saffern-tea  "  never  has  lost  its  good 
standing  as  a  cure  for  the  "jarnders."  In  coun- 
try communities  scores  of  old  herbs  and  simples 
are  used  in  vast  amounts ;  and  in  every  village 
is  some  aged  man  or  woman  wise  in  gathering,  dis- 
tilling, and  compounding  these  "  potent  and  parable 
medicines,"  to  use  Cotton  Mather's  words.  One  of 
these  gatherers  of  simples  is  shown  opposite  page 
1 20,  a  quaint  old  figure,  seen  afar  as  we  drive  through 
country  by-roads,  as  she  bends  over  some  dense 
clump  of  weeds  in  distant  meadow  or  pasture. 

In  our  large  city  markets  bunches  of  sweet  herbs 
are  still  sold ;  and  within  a  year  I  have  seen  men 
passing  my  city  home  selling  great  bunches  of  Cat- 
nip and  Mint,  in  the  spring,  and  dried  Sage,  Marjo- 
ram, and  other  herbs  in  the  autumn.  In  one  case 
I  noted  that  it  was  the  same  man,  unmistakably  a 
real  countryman,  whom  I  had  noted  selling  quail  on 
the  street,  when  he  had  about  forty  as  fine  quail  as 
I  ever  saw.  I  never  saw  him  sell  quail,  nor  herbs. 
I  think  his  customers  are  probably  all  foreigners  — 
emigrants  from  continental  Europe,  chiefly  Poles  and 
Italians. 

The  use  of  herbs  as  component  parts  of  love 
philters  and  charms  is  a  most  ancient  custom,  and 
lingered  into  the  nineteenth  century  in  country  com- 
munities. I  knew  but  one  case  of  the  manufacture 


The  Herb  Garden  119 

and  administering  of  a  love  philter,  and  it  was  by  a 
person  to  whom  such  an  action  would  seem  utterly 
incongruous.  A  very  gentle,  retiring  girl  in  a  New 
England  town  eighty  years  ago  was  deeply  in  love 
with  the  minister  whose  church  she  attended,  and 
of  which  her  father  was  the  deacon.  The  parson 
was  a  widower,  nearly  of  middle  age,  and  exceedingly 
sombre  and  reserved  in  character  —  saddened,  doubt- 
less, by  the  loss  of  his  two  young  children  and  his 
wife  through  that  scourge  of  New  England,  con- 
sumption; but  he  was  very  handsome,  and  even  his 
sadness  had  its  charm.  His  house,  had  burned 
down  as  an  additional  misfortune,  and  he  lived  in 
lodgings  with  two  elderly  women  of  his  congregation. 
Therefore  church  meetings  and  various  gatherings 
of  committees  were  held  at  the  deacon's  house,  and 
the  deacon's  daughter  saw  him  day  after  day,  and 
grew  more  desperately  in  love.  Desperate  certainly 
she  was  when  she  dared  even  to  think  of  giving  a 
love  philter  to  a  minister.  The  recipe  was  clearly 
printed  on  the  last  page  of  an  old  dream  book ;  and 
she  carried  it  out  in  every  detail.  It  was  easy  to 
introduce  it  into  the  mug  of  flip  which  was  always 
brewed  for  the  meeting,  and  the  parson  drank  it 
down  abstractedly,  thinking  that  it  seemed  more 
bitter  than  usual,  but  showing  no  sign  of  this 
thought.  The  philter  was  promised  to  have  effect 
in  making  the  drinker  love  profoundly  the  first  per- 
son of  opposite  sex  whom  he  or  she  saw  after  drink- 
ing it ;  and  of  course  the  minister  saw  Hannah  as 
she  stood  waiting  for  his  empty  tankard.  The  dull 
details  of  parish  work  were  talked  over  in  the  usual 


I2O  Old  Time  Gardens 

dragging  way  for  half  an  hour,  when  the  minister 
became  conscious  of  an  intense  coldness  which 
seemed  to  benumb  him  in  every  limb ;  and  he 
tried  to  walk  to  the  fireplace.  Suddenly  all  in  the 
room  became  aware  that  he  was  very  ill,  and  one 
called  out,  "  He's  got  a  stroke."  Luckily  the  town 
doctor  was  also  a  deacon,  and  was  therefore  present ; 
and  he  promptly  said,  "  He's  poisoned,"  and  hot 
water  from  the  teakettle,  whites  of  eggs,  mustard, 
and  other  domestic  antidotes  were  administered  with 
promptitude  and  effect.  It  is  useless  to  detail  the 
days  of  agony  to  the  wretched  girl,  during  which  the 
sick  man  wavered  between  life  and  death,  nor  her 
devoted  care  of  him.  Soon  after  his  recovery  he 
solemnly  proposed  marriage  to  her,  and  was  refused. 
But  he  never  wavered  in  his  love  for  her;  and  every 
year  he  renewed  his  offer  and  told  his  wishes,  to  be 
met  ever  with  a  cold  refusal,  until  ten  years  had 
passed  ;  when  into  his  brain  there  entered  a  percep- 
tion that  her  refusal  had  some  extraordinary  element 
in  it.  Then,  with  a  warmth  of  determination  worthy 
a  younger  man,  he  demanded  an  explanation,  and 
received  a  confession  of  the  poisonous  love  philter. 
I  suppose  time  had  softened  the  memory  of  his  suf- 
fering, at  any  rate  they  were  married  —  so  the  promise 
of  the  love  charm  came  true,  after  all. 

Amos  Bronson  Alcott  was  another  author  of 
Concord,  a  sweet  philosopher  whom  I  shall  ever 
remember  with  deepest  gratitude  as  the  only  person 
who  in  my  early  youth  ever  imagined  any  literary 
capacity  in  me  (and  in  that  he  was  sadly  mistaken, 
for  he  fancied  I  would  be  a  poet).  I  have  read 


A  Gatherer  of  Simples. 


The  Herb  Garden  121 

very  faithfully  all  his  printed  writings,  trying  to 
believe  him  a  great  man,  a  seer  ;  but  I  cannot,  in 
spite  of  my  gratitude  for  his  flattering  though  unful- 
filled prophecy,  discover  in  his  books  any  profound 
signs  of  depth  or  novelty  of  thought.  In  his 
Tablets  are  some  very  pleasant,  if  not  surprisingly 
wise,  essays  on  domestic 'subjects;  one,  on  "Sweet 
Herbs,"  tells  cheerfully  of  the  womanly  care  of  the 
herb  garden,  but  shows  that,  when  written  —  about 
1850  —  borders  of  herbs  were  growing  infrequent. 

One  great  delight  of  old  English  gardens  is  never 
afforded  us  in  New  England ;  we  do  not  grow 
Lavender  beds.  I  have  of  course  seen  single  plants 
of  Lavender,  so  easily  winter-killed,  but  I  never 
have  seen  a  Lavender  bed,  nor  do  I  know  of  one. 
It  is  a  great  loss.  A  bed  or  hedge  of  Lavender  is 
pleasing  in  the  same  way  that  the  dress  of  a  Quaker 
lady  is  pleasing;  it  is  reposeful,  refined.  It  has  a 
soft  effect  at  the  edge  of  a  garden,  like  a  blue-gray 
haze,  and  always  reminds  me  of  doves.  The  power 
of  association  or  some  inherent  quality  of  the  plant, 
makes  Lavender  always  suggest  freshness  and  clean- 
liness. 

We  may  linger  a  little  with  a  few  of  these  old 
herb  favorites.  One  of  the  most  balmy  and  beauti- 
ful of  all  the  sweet  breaths  borne  by  leaves  or 
blossoms  is  that  of  Basil,  which,  alas  !  I  see  so  sel- 
dom. I  have  always  loved  it,  and  can  never  pass 
it  without  pressing  its  leaves  in  my  hand ;  and  I 
cannot  express  the  satisfaction,  the  triumph,  with 
which  I  read  these  light-giving  lines  of  old  Thomas 
Tusser,  which  showed  me  why  I  loved  it :  — 


122  Old  Time  Gardens 

"  Faire  Basil  desireth  it  may  be  hir  lot 
To  growe  as  the  gilly  flower  trim  in  a  pot 
That  Ladies  and  Gentils  whom  she  doth  serve 
May  help  hir  as  needeth  life  to  preserve." 

An  explanation  of  this  rhyme  is  given  by  Tusser 
Redivivus :  "  Most  people  stroak  Garden  Basil 
which  leaves  a  grateful  smell  on  the  hand  and  he  will 
have  it  that  Streaking  from  a  fair  lady  preserves  the 
life  of  the  Basil." 

This  is  a  striking  example  of  floral  telepathy ; 
you  know  what  the  Basil  wishes,  and  the  Basil  knows 
and  craves  your  affection,  and  repays  your  caress 
with  her  perfume  and  growth.  It  is  a  case  of 
mutual  attraction  ;  and  I  beg  the  "  Gentle  Reader" 
never  to  pass  a  pot  or  plant  of  Basil  without 
"  stroaking"  it;  that  it  may  grow  and  multiply  and 
forever  retain  its  relations  with  fair  women,  as  a  type 
of  the  purest,  the  most  clinging,  and  grateful  love. 

One  amusing  use  of  Basil  (as  given  in  one  of 
my  daughter's  old  Herbals)  was  intended  to  check 
obesity  :  — 

"  To    MAKE    THAT   A  WOMAN    SHALL    EAT    OF   NOTHING 

THAT  is  SET  UPON  THE  TABLE  :  —  Take  a  little  green 
Basil,  and  when  Men  bring  the  Dishes  to  the  Table  put 
it  underneath  them  that  the  Woman  perceive  it  not ;  so 
Men  say  that  she  will  eat  of  none  of  that  which  is  in  the 
Dish  whereunder  the  Basil  lieth." 

I  cannot  understand  why  so  sinister  an  association 
was  given  to  a  pot  of  Basil  by  Boccaccio,  who 
makes  the  unhappy  Isabella  conceal  the  head  of  her 
murdered  lover  in  a  flower  pot  under  a  plant  of 


The  Herb  Garden  123 

Basil;  for  in  Italy  Basil  is  ever  a  plant  of  love,  not 
of  jealousy  or  crime.  One  of  its  common  names 
is  Bacia,  Nicola  —  Kiss  me,  Nicholas.  Peasant  girls 
always  place  Basil  in  their  hair  when  they  go  to 
meet  their  sweethearts,  and  an  offered  sprig  of  Basil 
is  a  love  declaration.  It  is  believed  that  Boccaccio 
obtained  this  tale  from  some  tradition  of  ancient 
Greece,  where  Basil  is  a  symbol  of  hatred  and  de- 
spair. The  figure  of  poverty  was  there  associated 
with  a  Basil  plant  as  with  rags.  It  had  to  be  sown 
with  abuse,  with  cursing  and  railing,  else  it  would 
not  flourish.  In  India  its  sanctity  is  above  all 
other  herbs.  A  pious  Indian  has  at  death  a  leaf  of 
Basil  placed  in  his  bosom  as  his  reward.  The  house 
surrounded  by  Basil  is  blessed,  and  all  who  cherish 
the  plant  are  sure  of  heaven. 

Mithridate  was  a  favorite  medicine  of  our  Puritan 
ancestors  ;  there  were  various  elaborate  compound 
rules  for  its  manufacture,  in  which  Rue  always  took 
a  part.  It  was  simple  enough  in  the  beginning, 
when  King  Mithridates  invented  it  as  an  antidote 
against  poison:  twenty  leaves  of  Rue  pounded  with 
two  Figs,  two  dried  Walnuts  and  a  grain  of  salt ; 
which  receipt  may  be  taken  cum  grano  salts.  Rue 
also  entered  into  the  composition  of  the  famous 
"  Vinegar  of  the  Four  Thieves."  These  four  ras- 
cals, at  the  time  of  the  Plague  in  Marseilles,  invented 
this  vinegar,  and,  protected  by  its  power,  entered 
infected  houses  and  carried  away  property  without 
taking  the  disease.  Rue  had  innumerable  virtues. 
Pliny  says  eighty-four  remedies  were  made  of  it. 
It  was  of  special  use  in  case  of  venomous  bites, 


124  Old  Time  Gardens 

and  to  counteract  "  Head-Ach  "  from  over  indul- 
gence in  wine,  especially  if  a  little  Sage  were  added. 
It  promoted  love  in  man  and  diminished  it  in 
woman ;  it  was  good  for  the  ear-ache,  eye-ache, 
stomach-ache,  leg-ache,  back-ache  ;  good  for  an  ague, 
good  for  a  surfeit ;  indeed,  it  would  seem  wise  to 
make  Rue  a  daily  article  of  food  and  thus  insure 
perpetual  good  health. 

The  scent  of  Rue  seems  never  dying.  A  sprig 
of  it  was  given  me  by  a  friend,  and  it  chanced  to 
lie  for  a  single  night  on  the  sheets  of  paper  upon 
which  this  chapter  is  written.  The  scent  has  never 
left  them,  and  indeed  the  odor  of  Rue  hangs  literally 
around  this  whole  book. 

Summer  Savory  and  Sweet  Marjoram  are  rarely 
employed  now  in  American  cooking.  They  are  still 
found  in  my  kitchen,  and  are  used  in  scant  amount 
as  a  flavoring  for  stuffing  of  fowl.  Many  who  taste 
and  like  the  result  know  not  the  old-fashioned  mate- 
rials used  to  produce  that  flavor,  and  "  of  the  younger 
sort "  the  names  even  are  wholly  unrecognized. 

Sage  is  almost  the  only  plant  of  the  English 
kitchen  garden  which  is  ordinarily  grown  in  America. 
I  like  its  fresh  gray  ness  in  the  garden.  In  the. 
days  of  our  friend  John  Gerarde,  the  beloved  old 
herbalist,  there  was  no  fixed  botanical  nomenclature ; 
but  he  scarcely  needed  botanical  terms,  for  he  had  a 
most  felicitous  and  dextrous  use  of  words.  "  Sage 
hath  broad  leaves,  long,  wrinkled,  rough,  and  whit- 
ish, like  in  roughness  to  woollen  cloth  threadbare." 
What  a  description  !  it  is  far  more  vivid  than  the 
picture  here  shown.  Sage  has  never  lost  its  estab- 


The   Herb  Garden 


125 


Our  Friend,  John  Gerarde. 

lished  place  as  a  flavoring  for  the  stuffing  for  ducks, 
geese,  and  for  sausages;  but  its  universal  em- 
ployment as  a  flavoring  for  Sage  cheese  is  nearly 
obsolete.  In  my  childhood  home,  we  always  had 
Sage  cheese  with  other  cheeses  ;  it  was  believed  to 
be  an  aid  in  digestion.  I  had  forgotten  its  taste ; 
and  I  must  say  I  didn't  like  it  when  I  ate  it  last 
summer,  in  New  Hampshire. 

Tansy  was  highly  esteemed  in  England  as  a  medi- 
cine, a  cosmetic,  and  a  flavoring  and  ingredient  in 
cooking.  It  was  rubbed  over  raw  meat  to  keep  the 
flies  away  and  prevent  decay,  for  in  those  days  of 


126 


Old  Time  Gardens 


no  refrigerators  there  had  to  be  strong  measures 
taken  for  the  perservation  of  all  perishable  food. 
Its  strong  scent  and  taste  would  be  deemed  intoler- 
able to  us,  who  can  scarce  endure  even  the  milder 
Sage  in  any  large  quantity.  A  good  folk  name  for 
it  is  "  Bitter  Buttons."  Gerarde  wrote  of  Tansy, 


Sage. 

"  In  the  spring  time,  are  made  with  the  leaves 
hereof  newly  sprung  up,  and  with  Eggs,  cakes  or 
Tansies,  which  be  pleasant  in  Taste  and  goode  for 
the  Stomach." 

"  To  Make  a  Tansie  the  Best  Way,"  I  learn  from 
The  Accomplisbt  Cook,  was  thus  :  — 

"  Take  twenty  Eggs,  and  take  away  five  whites,  strain 
them  with  a  quart  of  good  sweet  thick  Cream,  and  put  to 
it  a  grated  nutmeg,  a  race  of  ginger  grated,  as  much  cinna- 


The  Herb  Garden  127 

mon  beaten  fine,  and  a  penny  white  loaf  grated  also,  mix 
them  all  together  with  a  little  salt,  then  stamp  some 
green  wheat  with  some  tansie  herbs,  strain  it  into  the 
cream  and  eggs  and  stir  all  together  ;  then  take  a  clean 
frying-pan,  and  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  butter,  melt  it,  and 
put  in  the  tansie,  and  stir  it  continually  over  the  fire  with 
a  slice,  ladle,  or  saucer,  chop  it,  and  break  it  as  it  thickens, 
and  being  well  incorporated  put  it  out  of  the  pan  into  a 
dish,  and  chop  it  very  fine ;  then  make  the  frying-pan  very 
clean,  and  put  in  some  more  butter,  melt  it,  and  fry  it 
whole  or  in  spoonfuls  ;  being  finely  fried  on  both  sides, 
dish  it  up  and  sprinkle  it  with  rose-vinegar,  grape-verjuyce, 
elder-vinegar,  cowslip-vinegar,  or  the  juyce  of  three  or 
four  oranges,  and  strow  on  a  good  store  of  fine  sugar." 

To  all  of  this  we  can  say  that  it  would  certainly 
be  a  very  good  dish  —  without  the  Tansy.  An- 
other mediaeval  recipe  was  of  Tansy,  Feverfew, 
Parsley,  and  Violets  mixed  with  eggs,  fried  in  butter, 
and  sprinkled  with  sugar. 

The  Minnow-Tansie  of  old  Izaak  Walton,  a 
"Tanzie  for  Lent,"  was  made  thus:  — 

"  Being  well  washed  with  salt  and  cleaned,  and  their 
heads  and  tails  cut  off",  and  not  washed  after,  they  prove  ex- 
cellent for  that  use ;  that  is  being  fried  with  the  yolks  of 
eggs,  the  flowers  of  cowslips  and  of  primroses,  and  a  little 
tansy,  thus  used  they  make  a  dainty  dish." 

The  name  Tansy  was  given  afterward  to  a  rich 
fruit  cake  which  had  no  Tansy  in  it.  It  was  appar- 
ently a  favorite  dish  of  Pepys.  A  certain  derivative 
custom  obtained  in  some  New  England  towns  — 
certainly  in  Hartford  and  vicinity.  Tansy  was  used 


128  Old  Time  Gardens 

to  flavor  the  Fast  Day  pudding.  One  old  lady  re- 
calls that  it  was  truly  a  bitter  food  to  the  younger 
members  of  the  family ;  Miss  Shelton,  in  her  enter- 
taining book,  The  Salt  Box  House,  tells  of  Tansy 
cakes,  and  says  children  did  not  dislike  them. 
Tansy  bitters  were  made  of  Tansy  leaves  placed 
in  a  bottle  with  New  England  rum.  They  were 
a  favorite  spring  tonic,  where  all  physicians  and 
housewives  prescribed  "  the  bitter  principle  "  in  the 
spring  time. 

No  doubt  Tansy  was  among  the  earliest  plants 
brought  over  by  the  settlers  ;  it  was  carefully  cher- 
ished in  the  herb  garden,  then  spread  to  the  door- 
yard  and  then  to  farm  lanes.  As  early  as  1746 
the  traveller  Kalm  noted  Tansy  growing  wild  in 
hedges  and  along  roads  in  Pennsylvania.  Now  it 
extends  its  sturdy  growth  for  miles  along  the  coun- 
try road,  one  of  the  rankest  of  weeds.  It  still  is 
used  in  the  manufacture  of  proprietary  medicines, 
and  for  this  purpose  is  cut  with  a  sickle  in  great  arm- 
fuls  and  gathered  in  cartloads.  I  have  always  liked 
its  scent;  and  its  leaves,  as  Gerarde  said,  "infinitely 
jagged  and'nicked  and  curled  "  ;  and  its  cheerful  little 
"  bitter  buttons  "  of  gold.  Some  old  flowers  adapt 
themselves  to  modern  conditions  and  look  up-to- 
date  ;  but  to  me  the  Tansy,  wherever  found,  is  as 
openly  old-fashioned  as  a  betty-lamp  or  a  foot-stove. 

On  July  i,  1846,  an  old  grave  was  opened  in 
the  ancient  "God's  Acre"  near  the  halls  of  Har- 
vard University  in  Cambridge,  Massachusetts.  This 
grave  was  a  brick  vault  covered  with  irregularly 
shaped  flagstones  about  three  inches  thick.  Over 


The  Herb  Garden 


129 


it  was  an  ancient  slab  of  peculiar  stone,  unlike  any 
others  in  the  cemetery  save  those  over  the  graves 


Tansy. 

of  two  presidents  of  the  College,  Rev.  Dr.  Chauncy 
and  Dr.  Oakes.  As  there  were  headstones  near 
this  slab  inscribed  with  the  names  of  the  great- 


130  Old  Time  Gardens 

grandchildren  of  President  Dunster,  it  was  believed 
that  this  was  the  grave  of  a  third  President,  Dr. 
Dunster.  He  died  in  the  year  1659;  but  his  death 
took  place  in  midwinter ;  and  when  this  coffin  was 
opened,  the  skeleton  was  found  entirely  surrounded 
with  common  Tansy,  in  seed,  a  portion  of  which 
had  been  pulled  up  by  the  roots,  and  it  was  there- 
fore believed  by  many  who  thought  upon  the 
matter  that  it  was  the  coffin  and  grave  of  President 
Mitchell,  who  died  in  July,  1668,  of  "an  extream 
fever."  The  skeleton  was  found  still  wrapped  in  a 
cerecloth,  and  in  the  record  of  the  church  is  a 
memorandum  of  payment  "for  a  terpauling  to  wrap 
Mr.  Mitchell."  The  Tansy  found  in  this  coffin, 
placed  there  more  than  two  centuries  ago,  still  re- 
tained its  shape  and  scent. 

This  use  of  Tansy  at  funerals  lingered  long  in 
country  neighborhoods  in  New  England,  in  some 
vicinities  till  fifty  years  ago.  To  many  older  per- 
sons the  Tansy  is  therefore  so  associated  with 
grewsome  sights  and  sad  scenes,  that  they  turn 
from  it  wherever  seen,  and  its  scent  to  them  is  un- 
bearable. One  elderly  friend  writes  me :  "  I  never 
see  the  leaves  of  Tansy  without  recalling  also  the 
pale  dead  faces  I  have  so  often  seen  encircled  by  the 
dank,  ugly  leaves.  Often  as  a  child  have  I  been 
sent  to  gather  all  the  Tansy  I  could  find,  to  be 
carried  by  my  mother  to  the  house  of  mourning ; 
and  I  gathered  it,  loathing  to  touch  it,  but  not  dar- 
ing to  refuse,  and  I  loathe  it  still." 

Tansy  not  only  retains  its  scent  for  a  long  period, 
but  the  "  golden  buttons  "  retain  their  color ;  I  have 


The  Herb  Garden  131 

seen  them  in  New  England  parlors  forming  part  of 
a  winter  posy  ;  this,  I  suppose,  in  neighborhoods 
where  Tansy  was  little  used  at  funerals. 

If  an  herb  garden  had  no  other  reason  for  exist- 
ence, let  me  commend  it  to  the  attention  of  those 
of  ample  grounds  and  kindly  hearts,  for  a  special 
purpose  —  as  a  garden  for  the  blind.  Our  many 
flower-charities  furnish  flowers  throughout  the  sum- 
mer to  our  hospitals,  but  what  sweet-scented  flowers 
are  there  for  those  debarred  from  any  sight  of 
beauty  ?  Through  the  past  summer  my  daughters 
sent  several  times  a  week,  by  the  generous  carriage 
of  the  Long  Island  Express  Company,  boxes  of  wild 
flowers  to  any  hospital  of  their  choice.  What  could 
we  send  to  the  blind  ?  The  midsummer  flowers  of 
field  and  meadow  gratified  the  sight,  but  scent  was 
lacking.  A  sprig  of  Sweet  Fern  or  Bayberry  was  the 
only  resource.  Think  of  the  pleasure  which  could 
be  given  to  the  sightless  by  a  posy  of  sweet-scented 
leaves,  by  Southernwood,  Mint,  Balm,  or  Basil, 
and  when  memory  was  thereby  awakened  in  those 
who  once  had  seen,  what  tender  thoughts  !  If  this 
book  could  influence  the  planting  of  an  herb  garden 
for  the  solace  of  those  who  cannot  see  the  flowers 
of  field  and  garden,  then  it  will  not  have  been  writ- 
ten in  vain. 


CHAPTER  VI 


IN    LILAC    TIDE 

Ere  Man  is  aware 

That  the  Spring  is  here 

The  Flowers  have  found  it  out." 

— Ancient  Chinese  Saying. 

FLOWER  opens,and  lo!  another 
Year,"  is  the  beautiful  and  sug- 
estive  legend  on  an  old  vessel 
bund  in  the  Catacombs.  Since 
these  words  were  written,  how 
many  years  have  begun  !  how  many  flowers  have 
opened !  and  yet  nature  has  never  let  us  weary 
of  spring  and  spring  flowers.  My  garden  knows 
well  the  time  o'  the  year.  It  needs  no  almanac  to 
count  the  months. 

"The  untaught  Spring  is  wise 
In  Cowslips  and  Anemonies." 

While  I  sit  shivering,  idling,  wondering  when  I 
can  "  start  the  garden  "  —  lo,  there  are  Snowdrops 
and  spring  starting  up  to  greet  me. 

Ever  in  earliest  spring  are  there  days  when  there 

is  no  green  in  grass,  tree,  or  shrub  ;  but  when  the 

garden  lover  is  conscious  that    winter  is  gone  and 

spring  is  waiting.     There  is  in  every  garden,  in  every 

132 


In  Lilac  Tide 


133 


dooryard,  as  in  the  field  and  by  the  roadside,  in 
some  indefinable  way  a  look  of  spring.  One  hint 
of  spring  comes  even  before  its  flowers  —  you 
can  smell  its  coming.  The  snow  is  gone  from 
the  garden  walks  and  some  of  the  open  beds ;  you 
walk  warily  down  the  softened  path  at  midday,  and 
you  smell  the  earth  as  it  basks  in  the  sun,  and  a 


Ladies'  Delights. 

faint  scent  comes  from  some  twigs  and  leaves.  Box 
speaks  of  summer,  not  of  spring  ;  and  the  fragrance 
from  that  Cedar  tree  is  equally  suggestive  of  sum- 
mer. But  break  off  that  slender  branch  of  Caly- 
canthus  —  how  fresh  and  welcome  its  delightful 
spring  scent.  Carry  it  into  the  house  with  branches 
of  Forsythia,  and  how  quickly  one  fills  its  leaf  buds 
and  the  other  blossoms. 


Time  Gardens 

For  several  years  the  first  blossom  of  the  new 
year  in  our  garden  was  neither  the  Snowdrop  nor 
Crocus,  but  the  Ladies'  Delight,  that  laughing, 
speaking  little  garden  face,  which  is  not  really  a 
spring  flower,  it  is  a  stray  from  summer;  but  it  is 
such  a  shrewd,  intelligent  little  creature  that  it  readily 
found  out  that  spring  was  here  ere  man  or  other 
flowers  knew  it.  This  dear  little  primitive  of  the 
Pansy  tribe  has  become  wonderfully  scarce  save  in 
cherished  old  gardens  like  those  of  Salem,  where  I 
saw  this  year  a  space  thirty  feet  long  and  several  feet 
wide,  under  flowering  shrubs  and  bushes,  wholly 
covered  with  the  everyday,  homely  little  blooms  of 
Ladies'  Delights.  They  have  the  party-colored 
petal  of  the  existing  strain  of  English  Pansies,  dis- 
tinct from  the  French  and  German  Pansies,  and  I 
doubt  not  are  the  descendants  of  the  cherished 
garden  children  of  the  English  settlers.  Gerarde 
describes  this  little  English  Pansy  or  Heartsease  in 
1587  under  the  name  of  Viola  tricolor :  — 

"  The  flouers  in  form  and  figure  like  the  Violet,  and  for 
the  most  part  of  the  same  Bignesse,  of  three  sundry  colours, 
purple,  yellow  and  white  or  blew,  by  reason  of  the  beauty 
and  braverie  of  which  colours  they  are  very  pleasing  to  the 
eye,  for  smel  they  have  little  or  none." 

In  Breck's  Book  of  Flowers,  1851,  is  the  first 
printed  reference  I  find  to  the  flower  under  the 
name  Ladies'  Delight.  In  my  childhood  I  never 
heard  it  called  aught  else ;  but  it  has  a  score  of  folk 
names,  all  testifying  to  an  affectionate  intimacy : 
Bird's-eye  ;  Garden-gate  ;  Johnny-jump-up  ;  None- 


In  Lilac  Tide  135 

so-pretty  ;  Kitty-come  ;  Kit-run-about ;  Three-faces 
under-a-hood ;  Come-and-cuddle-me ;  Pink-of-my 
Joan ;  Kiss-me ;  Tickle-my-fancy ;  Kiss-me-ere-I 
rise ;  Jump-up-and-kiss-me.  To  our  little  flower 
has  also  been  given  this  folk  name,  Meet-her-in-the- 
entry-kiss-her-in-the-buttery,  the  longest  plant  name 
in  the  English  language,  rivalled  only  by  Miss 
Jekyll's  triumph  of  nomenclature  for  the  Stone- 
crop,  namely :  Welcome-home-husband-be-he-ever- 
so-drunk. 

These  little  Ladies'  Delights  have  infinite  variety 
or  expression  ;  some  are  laughing  and  roguish,  some 
sharp  and  shrewd,  some  surprised,  others  worried, 
all  are  animated  and  vivacious,  and  a  few  saucy  to 
a  degree.  They  are  as  companionable  as  people  — 
nay,  more ;  they  are  as  companionable  as  children. 
No  wonder  children  love  them ;  they  recognize 
kindred  spirits.  I  know  a  child  who  picked  un- 
bidden a  choice  Rose,  and  hid  it  under  her  apron. 
But  as  she  passed  a  bed  of  Ladies'  Delights  blow- 
ing in  the  wind,  peering,  winking,  mocking,  she 
suddenly  threw  the  Rose  at  them,  crying  out  pet- 
tishly, "  Here  !  take  your  old  flower  !  " 

The  Dandelion  is  to  many  the  golden  seal  of 
spring,  but  it  blooms  the  whole  circle  of  the  year  in 
sly  garden  corners  and  in  the  grass.  Of  it  might 
have  been  written  the  lines :  — 

"  It  smiles  upon  the  lap  of  May, 

To  sultry  August  spreads  its  charms, 
Lights  pale  October  on  its  way, 
And  twines  December's  arms." 


136 


Old  Time  Gardens 


I  have  picked  both  Ladies'  Delights  and  Dandelions 
every  month  in  the  year. 

I  suppose  the  common  Crocus  would  not  be 
deemed  a  very  great  garden  ornament  in  midsum- 
mer, in  its  lowly  growth  ;  but  in  its  spring  blossom- 


Sun-dial  in  Garden  of  Hon.  William   H.  Seward,  Auburn,  Ne 


ing  it  is  —  to  use  another's  words  —  "  most  gladsome 
of  the  early  flowers."  A  bed  of  Crocuses  is  certainly 
a  keen  pleasure,  glowing  in  the  sun,  almost  as  grate-- 
ful  to  the  human  eye  as  to  the  honey-gathering  bees 
that  come  unerringly,  from  somewhere,  to  hover 
over  the  golden  cups.  How  welcome  after  winter 
is  the  sound  of  that  humming. 


In   Lilac  Tide  137 

In  the  garden's  story,  there  are  ever  a  few  pic- 
tures which  stand  out  with  startling  distinctness. 
When  the  year  is  gone  you  do  not  recall  many  days 
nor  many  flowers  with  precision;  often  a  single 
flower  seems  of  more  importance  than  a  whole 
garden.  In  the  day  book  of  1900  I  have  but  few 
pictures;  the  most  vivid  was  the  very  first  of  the 
season.  It  could  have  been  no  later  than  April, 
for  one  or  two  Snowdrops  still  showed  white 
in  the  grass,  when  a  splendid  ribbon  of  Chiono- 
doxa  —  Glory  of  the  Snow  —  opened  like  blue  fire 
burning  from  plant  to  plant,  the  bluest  thing 
I  ever  saw  in  any  garden.  It  was  backed  with 
solid  masses  of  equally  vivid  yellow  Alyssum  and 
chalk-white  Candy-tuft,  both  of  which  had  had  a 
good  start  under  glass  in  a  temporary  forcing  bed. 
These  three  solid  masses  of  color  surrounded  by 
bare  earth  and  showing  little  green  leafage  made  my 
eyes  ache,  but  a  picture  was  burnt  in  which  will 
never  leave  my  brain.  I  always  have  a  sense  of 
importance,  of  actual  ownership  of  a  plant,  when  I 
can  recall  its  introduction  —  as  I  do  of  the  Chiono- 
doxa,  about  1871.  It  is  said  to  come  up  and 
bloom  in  the  snow,  but  I  have  never  seen  it  in  blos- 
som earlier  than  March,  and  never  then  unless  the 
snow  has  vanished.  It  has  much  of  the  charm  of 
its  relative,  the  Scilla. 

We  all  have  flower  favorites,  and  some  of  us  have 
flower  antipathies,  or  at  least  we  are  indifferent  to 
certain  flowers  ;  but  I  never  knew  any  one  but  loved 
the  Daffodil.  Not  only  have  poets  and  dramatists 
sung  it,  but  it  is  a  common  favorite,  as  shown  by  its 


138  Old  Time  Gardens 

homely  names  in  our  everyday  speech.  I  am  always 
touched  in  Endymion  that  the  only  flowers  named 
as  "  a  thing  of  beauty  that  is  a  joy  forever  "  are  Daf- 
fodils "  with  the  green  world  they  live  in." 

In  Daffodils  I  like  the  "old  fat-headed  sort  with 
nutmeg  and  cinnamon  smell  and  old  common  Eng- 
lish names  —  Butter-and-eggs,  Codlins-and-cream, 
Bacon  and  eggs."  The  newer  ones  are  more  slender 
in  bud  and  bloom,  more  trumpet-shaped,  and  are 
commonplace  of  name  instead  of  common.  In  Vir- 
ginia the  name  of  a  variety  has  become  applied  to  a 
family,  and  all  Daffodils  are  called  Butter-and-eggs 
by  the  people. 

On  spring  mornings  the  Tulips  fairly  burn  with 
a  warmth,  which  makes  them  doubly  welcome 
after  winter.  Emerson  —  ever  able  to  draw  a  pic- 
ture in  two  lines  —  to  show  the  heart  of  everything 
in  a  single  sentence  —  thus  paints  them  :  — 

"The  gardens  fire  with  a  joyful  blaze 
Of  Tulips  in  the  morning's  rays." 

"Tulipase  do  carry  so  stately  and  delightful  a 
form,  and  do  abide  so  long  in  their  bravery,  that 
there  is  no  Lady  or  Gentleman  of  any  worth  that  is 
not  caught  with  this  delight,"  —  wrote  the  old  her- 
balist Parkinson.  Bravery  is  an  ideal  expression  for 
Tulips. 

It  is  with  something  of  a  shock  that  we  read  the 
words  of  Philip  Hamerton  in  The  Sylvan  Tear,,  that 
nature  is  not  harmonious  in  the  spring,  but  is  only 
in  the  way  of  becoming  so.  He  calls  it  the  time  of 
crudities,  like  the  adolescence  of  the  mind.  He  says, 


Lilacs  in  Midsummer  in  Garden  of  Mrs.  Abraham  Lansing, 
Albany,  New  York. 


In  Lilac  Tide  139 

"  The  green  is  good  for  us,  and  we  welcome  it  with 
uncritical  gladness  ;  but  when  we  think  of  painting, 
it  may  be  doubted  whether  any  season  of  the  year  is 
less  propitious  to  the  broad  and  noble  harmonies 
which  are  the  secrets  of  all  grand  effects  in  art." 
And  he  compares  the  season  to  the  uncomfortable 
hour  in  a  household  when  the  early  risers  are  walk- 
ing about,  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  themselves, 
while  others  have  not  yet  come  down  to  breakfast. 

I  must  confess  that  an  undiversified  country  land- 
scape in  spring  has  upon  me  the  effect  asserted  by 
Hamerton.  I  recall  one  early  spring  week  in  the 
Catskills,  when  I  fairly  complained,  "  Everything  is 
so  green  here."  I  longed  for  rocks,  water,  burnt 
fields,  bare  trees,  anything  to  break  that  glimmering 
green  of  new  grass  and  new  Birches.  But  in  the 
spring  garden  there  is  variety  of  shape  and  color  ; 
the  Peony  leaf  buds  are  red,  some  sprouting  leaves 
are  pink,  and  there  are  vast  varieties  of  brown  and 
gray  and  gold  in  leaf. 

Let  me  give  the  procession  of  spring  in  the  gar- 
den in  the  words  of  a  lover  of  old  New  England 
flowers,  Dr.  Holmes.      It  is  a  vivid  word  picture  of  • 
the  distinctive  forms  and  colors  of  budding  flowers 
and  leaves. 

"  At  first  the  snowdrop's  bells  are  seen, 

Then  close  against  the  sheltering  wall 
The  tulip's  horn  of  dusky  green, 
The  peony's  dark  unfolding  ball. 

"  The  golden-chaliced  crocus  burns  ; 
The  long  narcissus  blades  appear  ; 


140  Old  Time  Gardens 

The  cone -beaked  hyacinth  returns 
To  light  her  blue-flamed  chandelier. 

"The  willow's  whistling  lashes,  wrung 
By  the  wild  winds  of  gusty  March, 
With  sallow  leaflets  lightly  strung, 
Are  swaying  by  the  tufted  larch. 

"See  the  proud  tulip's  flaunting  cup, 

That  flames  in  glory  for  an  hour,  — 
Behold  it  withering,  then  look  up  — 
How  meek  the  forest-monarchs  flower  ! 

"  When  wake  the  violets,  Winter  dies  ; 

When  sprout  the  elm  buds,  Spring  is  near  ; 
When  lilacs  blossom,  Summer  cries, 
'Bud,  little  roses,  Spring  is  here.'  " 

The  universal  flower  in  the  old-time  garden  was 
the  Lilac  ;  it  was  the  most  beloved  bloom  of  spring, 
and  gave  a  name  to  Spring — Lilac  tide.  The  Lilac 
does  not  promise  "  spring  is  coming "  ;  it  is  the 
emblem  of  the  presence  of  spring.  Dr.  Holmes 
says,  "  When  Lilacs  blossom,  Summer  cries, '  Spring 
is  here '  "  in  every  cheerful  and  lavish  bloom.  Lilacs 
shade  the  front  yard  ;  Lilacs  grow  by  the  kitchen 
doorstep;  Lilacs  spring  up  beside  the  barn;  Lilacs 
shade  the  well ;  Lilacs  hang  over  the  spring  house ; 
Lilacs  crowd  by  the  fence  side  and  down  the  country 
road.  In  many  colonial  dooryards  it  was  the  only 
shrub  —  known  both  to  lettered  and  unlettered  folk 
as  Laylock,  and  spelt  Laylock  too.  Walter  Savage 
Landor,  when  Laylock  had  become  antiquated,  still 
clung  to  the  word,  and  used  it  with  a  stubborn 
persistence  such  as  he  alone  could  compass,  and 


In   Lilac  Tide 


141 


which  seems  strange  in  the  most  finished  classical 
scholar  of  his  day. 

"  I  shall  not  go  to  town  while  the  Lilacs  bloom," 
wrote  Longfellow ;  and  what  Lilac  lover  could  have 


Lilacs  at  Craigie  House,  the  Home  of  Longfellow. 

left  a  home  so  Lilac-embowered  as  Craigie  House  ! 
A  view  of  its  charms  in  Lilac  tide  is  given  in  outline 
on  this  page ;  the  great  Lilac  trees  seem  wondrously 
suited  to  the  fine  old  Revolutionary  mansion. 

There   is   in   Albany,  New  York,   a  lovely  gar- 
den   endeared   to  those  who  know  it  through   the 


142  Old  Time  Gardens 

memory  of  a  presence  that  lighted  all  places  associ- 
ated with  it  with  the  beauty  of  a  noble  life.  It  is 
the  garden  of  the  home  of  Mrs.  Abraham  Lansing, 
and  was  planted  by  her  father  and  mother,  General 


Box-edged  Garden  at  the  Home  of  Longfellow. 

and  Mrs.  Peter  Gansevoort,  in  1846,  having  been 
laid  out  with  taste  and  an  art  that  has  borne  the  test 
of  over  half  a  century's  growth.  In  the  garden  are 
scores  of  old-time  favorites  :  Flower  de  Luce,  Peo- 
nies, Daffodils,  and  snowy  Phlox ;  but  instead  of 


In  Lilac  Tide  143 

bending  over  the  flower  borders,  let  us  linger  awhile 
in  the  wonderful  old  Lilac  walk.  It  is  a  glory  of 
tender  green  and  shaded  amethyst  and  grateful  hum 
of  bees,  the  very  voice  of  Spring.  Every  sense  is 
gratified,  even  that  of  touch,  when  the  delicate  plumes 
of  the  fragrant  Lilac  blossoms  brush  your  cheek  as 
you  walk  through  its  path;  there  is  no  spot  of  fairer 
loveliness  than  this  Lilac  walk  in  May.  It  is  a  won- 
derful study  of  flickering  light  and  grateful  shade  in 
midsummer.  Look  at  its  full-leaf  charms  opposite 
page  138  ;  was  there  ever  anything  lovelier  in  any  gar- 
den, at  any  time,  than  the  green  vista  of  this  Lilac  walk 
in  July  ?  But  for  the  thoughtful  garden-lover  it  has 
another  beauty  still,  the  delicacy  and  refinement  of 
outline  when  the  Lilac  walk  is  bare  of  foliage,  as  is 
shown  on  page  220  and  facing  page  154.  The  very 
spirit  of  the  Lilacs  seems  visible,  etched  with  a  purity 
of  touch  that  makes  them  sentient,  speaking  beings, 
instead  of  silent  plants.  See  the  outlines  of  stem  and 
branch  against  the  tender  sky  of  this  April  noon. 
Do  you  care  for  color  when  you  have  such  beauty  of 
outline  ?  Surely  this  Lilac  walk  is  loveliest  in  April, 
with  a  sensitive  etherealization  beyond  compare. 
How  wonderfully  these  pictures  have  caught  the 
look  of  tentative  spring  —  spring  waiting  for  a  single 
day  to  burst  into  living  green.  There  is  an  ancient 
Saxon  name  for  springtime  —  Opyn-tide  —  thus 
defined  by  an  old  writer,  "  Whenne  that  flowres 
think  on  blowen "  —  when  the  flowers  begin  to 
think  of  budding  and  blowing;  and  so  I  name  this 
picture  Opyn-tide,  the  Thought  of  Spring. 

For  many  years   Lilacs  were  planted  for  hedges ; 


144  Old  Time  Gardens 

they  were  seldom  satisfactory  if  clipped,  for  the  broad- 
spreading  leaves  were  always  gray  with  dust,  and 
they  often  had  a  "  rust "  which  wholly  destroyed 
their  beauty.  The  finest  clipped  Lilac  hedge  I  ever 
saw  is  at  Indian  Hill,  Newburyport.  It  was  set  out 
about  1850,  and  is  compact  and  green  as  Privet; 
the  leaves  are  healthy,  and  the  growth  perfect  down 
to  the  ground  ;  it  is  an  unusual  example  of  Lilac 
growth  —  a  perfect  hedge.  An  undipped  Lilac 
hedge  is  lovely  in  its  blooming;  a  beautiful  one 
grows  by  the  side  of  the  old  family  home  of  Mr. 
Mortimer  Howell  at  West  Hampton  Beach,  Long 
Island.  To  this  hedge  in  May  come  a-begging 
dusky  city  flower  venders,  who  break  off  and  carry 
away  wagon  loads  of  blooms.  As  the  fare  from  and 
to  New  York  is  four  dollars,  and  a  wagon  has  to  be 
hired  to  convey  the  flowers  from  the  hedge  two  miles 
to  the  railroad  station,  there  must  be  a  high  price 
charged  for  these  Lilacs  to  afford  any  profit ;  but 
the  Italian  flower  sellers  appear  year  after  year. 

Lilacs  bloom  not  in  our  ancient  literature  ;  they 
are  not  named  by  Shakespeare,  nor  do  I  recall  any 
earlier  mention  of  them  than  in  the  essay  of  Lord 
Bacon  on  "Gardens,"  published  about  1610,  where 
he  spelled  it  Lelacke.  Blue-pipe  tree  was  the  ancient 
name  of  the  Lilac,  a  reminder  of  the  time  when  pipes 
were  made  of  its  wood  ;  I  heard  it  used  in  modern 
speech  once.  An  old  Narragansett  coach  driver 
called  out  to  me,  "  Ye  set  such  store  on  flowers, 
don't  ye  want  to  pick  that  Blue-pipe  in  Fender 
Zeke's  garden  ?" —  a  deserted  garden  and  home  at 
Fender  Zeke's  Corner.  This  man  had  some  of  the 


In   Lilac  Tide 


'45 


traits  of  Mrs.  Wright's  delightful  "  Time-o'-Day," 
and  he  knew  well  my  love  of  flowers ;  for  he  had 
been  my  charioteer  to  the  woods  where  Rhododen- 
dron and  Rhodora  bloom,  and  he  had  revealed  to 
me  the  pond  where  grew  the  pink  Water  Lilies. 
And  from  a  chance  remark  of  mine  he  had  conveyed 
to  me  a  wagon  load  of  Joepye-weed  and  Boneset, 
to  the  dismay  of  my  younger  children,  who  had 
apprehensions 
of  unlimited  gal- 
lons of  herb  tea 
therefrom.  Let 
me  steal  a  few 
lines  from  my 
spring  Lilacs  to 
write  of  these 
two  "  Sisters  of 
Healing,"  which 
were  often 
planted  in  the 
household  herb 
garden.  From 
July  to  Septem- 
ber in  the  low  lying  meadows  of  every  state  from 
the  Bay  of  Fundy  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  can  be 
found  Joepye-weed  and  Boneset.  The  dull  pink 
clusters  of  soft  fringy  blooms  of  Joepye-weed  stand 
up  three  to  eight  feet  in  height  above  the  moist 
earth,  catching  our  eye  and  the  visit  of  every  pass- 
ing butterfly,  and  commanding  attention  for  their 
fragrance,  and  a  certain  dignity  of  carnage  notable 
even  among  the  more  striking  hues  of  the  brilliant 


Joepye-weed  and  Queen  Anne's  Lace. 


i46 


Old  Time  Gardens 


Goldenrod  and  vivid  Sunflowers.  Joe  Pye  was  an 
Indian  medicine-man  of  old  New  England,  famed 
among  his  white  neighbors  for  his  skill  in  curing 
the  devastating  typhoid  fevers  which,  in  those  days 
of  no  drainage  and  ignorance  of  sanitation,  vied  with 

so-called  "  he- 
reditary "  con- 
sumption  in 
exterminating 
New  England 
families.  His 
cure-all  was  a  bit- 
ter tea  decocted 
from  leaves  and 
stalks  of  this 
Eupatorium  pur- 
pureum,  and  in 
token  of  his  suc- 
cess the  plant 
bears  every- 
where his  name, 
but  it  is  now 
wholly  neglected 
by  the  simpler 
and  herb-doctor. 
The  sister  plant, 
the  Eupatorium  perfoliatum,  known  as  Thorough- 
wort,  Boneset,  Ague-weed,  or  Indian  Sage,  grows 
everywhere  by  its  side,  and  is  also  used  in  fevers. 
It  was  as  efficacious  in  "break  bone  fever"  in  the 
South  a  century  ago  as  it  is  now  for  the  grippe,  for 
it  still  is  used,  North  and  South,  in  many  a  country 


Boneset. 


In  Lilac  Tide  147 

home.  Neltje  Blanchan  and  Mrs.  Dana  Parsons  call 
Thoroughwort  or  Boneset  tea  a  "nauseous  draught," 
and  I  thereby  suspect  that  neither  has  tasted  it. 
I  have  many  a  time,  and  it  has  a  clear,  clean  bitter 
taste,  no  stronger  than  any  bitter  beer  or  ale.  Every 
year  is  Boneset  gathered  ift  old  Narragansett ;  but 
swamp  edges  and  meadows  that  are  easy  of  access 
have  been  depleted  of  the  stately  growth  of  saw- 
edged  wrinkled  leaves,  and  the  Boneset  gatherer 
must  turn  to  remote  brooksides  and  inaccessible 
meadows  for  his  harvest.  The  flat-topped  terminal 
cymes  of  leaden  white  blooms  are  not  distinctive  as 
seen  from  afar,  and  .many  flowers  of  similar  appear- 
ance lure  the  weary  simpler  here  and  there,  until  at 
last  the  welcome  sight  of  the  connate  perfoliate 
leaves,  surrounding  the  strong  stalk,  distinctive  of 
the  Boneset,  show  that  his  search  is  rewarded. 

After  these  bitter  draughts  of  herb  tea,  we  will  turn, 
as  do  children,  to  sweets,  to  our  beloved  Lilac  blooms. 
The  Lilac  has  ever  been  a  flower  welcomed  by  Eng- 
lish-speaking folk  since  it  first  came  to  England  by 
the  hand  of  some  mariner.  It  is  said  that  a  German 
traveller  named  Busbeck  brought  it  from  the  Orient 
to  the  continent  in  the  sixteenth  century.  I  know 
not  when  it  journeyed  to  the  new  world,  but  long 
enough  ago  so  that  it  now  grows  cheerfully  and  plen- 
tifully in  all  our  states  of  temperate  clime  and  indeed 
far  south.  It  even  grows  wild  in  some  localities, 
though  it  never  looks  wild,  but  plainly  shows  its 
escape  or  exile  from  some  garden.  It  is  specially 
beloved  in  New  England,  and  it  seems  so  much 
more  suited  in  spirit  to  New  England  than  to 


148  Old  Time  Gardens 

Persia  that  it  ought  really  to  be  a  native  plant. 
Its  very  color  seems  typical  of  New  England  ;  some 
parts  of  celestial  blue,  with  more  of  warm  pink, 
blended  and  softened  by  that  shading  of  sombre 
gray  ever  present  in  New  England  life  into  a  dis- 
tinctive color  known  everywhere  as  lilac  —  a  color 
grateful,  quiet,  pleasing,  what  Thoreau  called  a 
"  tender,  civil,  cheerful  color."  Its  blossoming  at 
the  time  of  Election  Day,  that  all-important  New 
England  holiday,  gave  it  another  New  England  sig- 
nificance. 

There  is  no  more  emblematic  flower  to  me  than 
the  Lilac ;  it  has  an  association  of  old  homes,  of 
home-making  and  home  interests.  On  the  country 
farm,  in  the  village  garden,  and  in  the  city  yard,  the 
lilac  was  planted  wherever  the  home  was  made,  and 
it  attached  itself  with  deepest  roots,  lingering  some- 
times most  sadly  but  sturdily,  to  show  where  the 
home  once  stood. 

Let  me  tell  of  two  Lilacs  of  sentiment.  One  of 
them  is  shown  on  page  149;  a  glorious  Lilac  tree 
which  is  one  of  a  group  of  many  full-flowered,  pale- 
tinted  ones  still  growing  and  blossoming  each  spring 
on  a  deserted  homestead  in  old  Narragansett. 
They  bloom  over  the  grave  of  a  fine  old  house,  and 
the  great  chimney  stands  sadly  in  their  midst  as  a 
gravestone.  "  Hopewell,"  ill-suited  of  name,  was 
the  home  of  a  Narragansett  Robinson  famed  for 
good  cheer,  for  refinement  and  luxury,  and  for  a 
lovely  garden,  laid  out  with  cost  and  care  and  filled 
with  rare  shrubs  and  flowers.  Perhaps  these  Lilacs 
were  a  rare  variety  in  their  day,  being  pale  of  tint ; 


Magnolias. 


In   Lilac  Tide  149 

now  they  are  as  wild  as  their  companions,  the  Cedar 
hedges. 

Gathering  in  the  front  dooryard  of  a  fallen  farm- 
house, some  splendid  branches  of  flowering  Lilac,  J 
found  a  few  feet  of  cellar  wall  and  wooden  house 
side  standing,  and  the  sills  of  two  windows.  These 
window  sills,  exposed  for  years  to  the  bleaching  and 


Lilacs  at  Hopewell. 

fading  of  rain  and  sun  and  frost,  still  bore  the  circu- 
lar marks  of  the  flower  pots  which,  filled  with  house- 
plants,  had  graced  the  kitchen  windows  for  many 
a  winter  under  the  care  of  a  flower-loving  house 
mistress.  A  few  days  later  I  learned  from  a  woman 
over  ninety  years  of  age  —  an  inmate  of  the  "  Poor 
House"  —  the  story  of  the  home  thus  touchingly 
indicated  by  the  Lilac  bushes  and  the  stains  of  the 
flower  pots.  Over  eighty  years  ago  she  had  brought 


150  Old  Time  Gardens 

the  tiny  Lilac-slip  to  her  childhood's  home,  then 
standing  in  a  clearing  in  the  forest.  She  carried  it 
carefully  in  her  hands  as  she  rode  behind  her  father 
on  a  pillion  after  a  visit  to  her  grandmother.  She 
and  her  little  brothers  and  sisters  planted  the  tiny 
thing  "  of  two  eyes  only,"  as  she  said,  in  the  shadow 
of  the  house,  in  the  little  front  yard.  And  these 
children  watered  it  and  watched  it,  as  it  rooted  and 
grew,  till  the  house  was  surrounded  each  spring  with 
its  vivacious  blooms,  its  sweet  fragrance.  The  puny 
slip  has  outlived  the  house  and  all  its  inmates  save 
herself,  outlived  the  brothers  and  sisters,  their  chil- 
dren and  grandchildren,  outlived  orchard  and  garden 
and  field.  And  it  will  live  to  tell  a  story  to  every 
thoughtful  -passer-by  till  a  second  growth  of  forest 
has  arisen  in  pasture  and  garden  and  even  in  the 
cellar-hole,  when  even  then  the  cheerful  Lilac  will 
not  be  wholly  obliterated. 

A  bunch  of  early  Lilacs  was  ever  a  favorite  gift  to 
"  teacher,"  to  be  placed  in  a  broken-nosed  pitcher 
on  her  desk.  And  Lilac  petals  made  such  lovely 
necklaces,  thrust  within  each  other  or  strung  with 
needle  and  thread.  And  there  was  a  love  divination 
by  Lilacs  which  we  children  solemnly  observed. 
There  will  occasionally  appear  a  tiny  Lilac  flower, 
usually  a  white  Lilac,  with  five  divisions  of  the  petal 
instead  of  four  —  this  is  a  Luck  Lilac.  This  must 
be  solemnly  swallowed.  If  it  goes  down  smoothly, 
the  dabbler  in  magic  cries  out,  "  He  loves  me ; "  if 
she  chokes  at  her  floral  food,  she  must  say  sadly, 
"  He  loves  me  not."  I  remember  once  calling  out, 
with  gratification  and  pride,  "  He  loves  me ! " 


In   Lilac  Tide  151 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  said  my  older  companions.  "  Oh,  I 
didn't  know  he  had  to  be  somebody,"  I  answered  in 
surprise,  to  be  met  by  derisive  laughter  at  my  satis- 
faction with  a  lover  in  general  and  not  in  particular. 
It  was  a  matter  of  Lilac-luck-etiquette  that  the 


Persian    Lilacs   and    Peonies   in  Garden  of   the    Kimball    Homestead, 
Portsmouth,   New  Hampshire. 

lover's  name  should  be  pronounced  mentally  before 
the  petal  was  swallowed. 

In  the  West  Indies  the  Lilac  is  a  flower  of  mys- 
terious power;  its  perfume  keeps  away  evil  spirits, 
ghosts,  banshees.  If  it  grows  not  in  the  dooryard, 
its  protecting  branches  are  hung  over  the  doorway. 
I  think  of  this  when  I  see  it  shading  the  door  of 
happy  homes  in  New  England. 

In  our  old  front  yards  we  had  only  the  common 


152  Old  Time  Gardens 

Lilacs,  and  occasionally  a  white  one ;  and  as  a  rarity 
the  graceful,  but  sometimes  rather  spindling,  Persian 
Lilacs,  known  since  1650  in  gardens,  and  shown  on 
page  151.  How  the  old  gardens  would  have  stared 
at  the  new  double  Lilacs,  which  have  luxuriant 
plumes  of  bloom  twenty  inches  long. 

The  "pensile  Lilac"  has  been  sung  by  many  poets  ; 
but  the  spirit  of  the  flower  has  been  best  portrayed 
in  verse  by  Elizabeth  Akers.  I  can  quote  but  a 
single  stanza  from  so  many  beautiful  ones. 

"  How  fair  it  stood,  with  purple  tassels'  hung, 

Their  hue  more  tender  than  the  tint  of  Tyre  ; 
How  musical  amid  their  fragrance  rung 

The  bee's  bassoon,  keynote  of  spring's  glad  choir  ! 

0  languorous  Lilac  !  still  in  time's  despite 

1  see  thy  plumy  branches  all  alight 

With  new-born  butterflies  which  loved  to  stay 
And  bask  and  banquet  in  the  temperate  ray 

Of  springtime,  ere  the  torrid  heats  should  be  : 

For  these  dear  memories,  though  the  world  grow  gray, 

I  sing  thy  sweetness,  lovely  Lilac  tree  !  " 

Another  poet  of  the  Lilac  is  Walt  Whitman. 
He  tells  his  delight  in  "  the  Lilac  tall  and  its  blos- 
soms of  mastering  odor."  He  sings  :  "  with  the 
birds  a  warble  of  joy  for  Lilac-time."  That  noble, 
heroic  dirge,  the  Burial  Hymn  of  Lincoln.,  begins  :  — 

"When  Lilacs  last  in  the  dooryard  bloom 'd." 

The  poet  stood  under  the  blossoming  Lilacs  when 
he  learned  of  the  death  of  Lincoln,  and  the  scent 
and  sight  of  the  flowers  ever  bore  the  sad  associa- 
tion. In  this  poem  is  a  vivid  description  of — 


In  Lilac  Tide  153 

"  The  Lilac  bush,  tall  growing,  with  heart-shaped  leaves  of  rich  green, 
With  many  a  pointed  blossom,  rising  delicate  with  the  perfume 

strong  I  love. 
With  every  leaf  a  miracle." 

Thomas  William  Parsons  could  turn  from  his 
profound  researches  and  loving  translations  of  Dante 
to  write  with  deep  sympathy  of  the  Lilac.  His  verses 
have  to  me  an  additional  interest,  since  I  believe 
they  were  written  in  the  house  built  by  my  ancestor 
in  1740,  and  occupied  still  by  his  descendants.  In 
its  front  dooryard  are  Lilacs  still  standing  under 
the  windows  of  Dr.  Parsons'  room,  in  which  he 
loved  so  to  write. 

Hawthorne  felt  a  sort  of  "ludicrous  unfitness  in 
the  idea  of  a  time-stricken  and  grandfatherly  Lilac 
bush."  He  was  dissatisfied  with  aged  Lilacs,  though 
he  knew  not  whether  his  heart,  judgment,  or  rural 
sense  put  him  in  that  condition.  He  felt  the  flower 
should  either  flourish  in  immortal  youth  or  die. 
Apple  trees  could  grow  old  and  feeble  without 
his  reproach,  but  an  aged  Lilac  was  improper. 

I  fancy  no  one  ever  took  any  care  of  Lilacs  in 
an  old  garden.  As  soon  water  or  enrich  the 
Sumach  and  Elder  growing  by  the  roadside  !  But 
care  for  your  Lilacs  nowadays,  and  see  how  they 
respond.  Make  them  a  garden  flower,  and  you  will 
never  regret  it.  There  be  those  who  prefer  grafted 
Lilacs  —  the  stock  being  usually  a  Syringa;  they 
prefer  the  single  trunk,  and  thus  get  rid  of  the  Lilac 
suckers.  But  compare  a  row  of  grafted  Lilacs  to  a 
row  of  natural  fastigate  growth,  as  shown  on  page 
220,  and  I  think  nature  must  be  preferred. 


154  Old  Time  Gardens 

"  Methinks  I  see  my  contemplative  girl  now  in 
the  garden  watching  the  gradual  approach  of  Spring," 
wrote  Sterne.  My  contemplative  girl  lives  in  the 
city,  how  can  she  know  that  spring  is  here  ?  Even 
on  those  few  square  feet  of  mother  earth,  dedicated 
to  clotheslines  and  posts,  spring  sets  her  mark. 
Our  Lilacs  seldom  bloom,  but  they  put  forth  lovely 
fresh  green  leaves ;  and  even  the  unrolling  of  the 
leaves  of  our  Japanese  ivies  are  a  pleasure. 

Our  poor  little  strips  of  back  yard  in  city  homes 
are  apt  to  be  too  densely  shaded  for  flower  blooms, 
but  some  things  will  grow,  even  there.  Some  wild 
flowers  will  live,  and  what  a  delight  they  are  in 
spring.  We  have  a  Jack-in-the-pulpit  who  comes 
up  just  as  jauntily  there  as  in  the  wild  woods ; 
Dog-tooth  Violet  and  our  common  wild  Violet  also 
bloom.  A  city  neighbor  has  Trillium  which  blos- 
soms each  year;  our  Trillium  shows  leaves,  but  no 
blossoms,  and  does  not  increase  in  spread  of  roots. 
Bloodroot,  a  flower  so  shy  when  gathered  in  the 
woods,  and  ever  loving  damp  sites,  flourishes  in  the 
dryest  flower  bed,  grows  coarser  in  leaf  and  bloom, 
and  blossoms  earlier,  and  holds  faster  its  snowy 
petals.  Corydalis  in  the  garden  seems  so  garden- 
bred  that  you  almost  forget  the  flower  was  ever 
wild. 

The  approach  of  spring  in  our  city  parks  is  marked 
by  the  appearance  of  the  Dandelion  gatherers.  It 
is  always  interesting  to  see,  in  May,  on  the  closely 
guarded  lawns  and  field  expanses  of  our  city  parks, 
the  hundreds  of  bareheaded,  gayly-dressed  Italian 
and  Portuguese  women  and  children  eagerly  gather- 


In  Lilac  Tide  155 

ing  the  young  Dandelion  plants  to  add  to  their 
meagre  fare  as  a  greatly-loved  delicacy.  They  collect 
these  "greens"  in  highly-colored  kerchiefs,  in  bas- 
kets, in  squares  of  sheeting  ;  I  have  seen  the  women 
bearing  off  a  half-bushel  of  plants ;  even  their  stumpy 
little  children  are  impressed  to  increase  the  welcome 
harvest,  and  with  a  broken  knife  dig  eagerly  in  the 
greensward.  The  thrifty  park  commissioners,  in  Dan- 
delion-time, relax  their  rigid  rules,  "  Keep  Off  the 
Grass,"  and  turn  the  salad-loving  Italians  loose  to  im- 
prove the  public  lawns  by  freeing  them  from  weeds. 

The  earliest  sign  of  spring  in  the  fields  and 
woods  in  my  childhood  was  the  appearance  of  the 
Willow  catkins,  and  was  heralded  by  the  cry  of  one 
child  to  another,  —  "  Pussy-willows  are  out."  How 
eagerly  did  those  who  loved  the  woods  and  fields 
turn,  after  the  storm,  whiteness,  and  chill  of  a  New 
England  winter,  to  Pussy-willows  as  a  promise  of 
summer  and  sunshine.  Some  of  their  charm  ever 
lingers  to  us  as  we  see  them  in  the  baskets  of  swarthy 
street  venders  in  New  York. 

Magnolia  blossoms  are  sold  in  our  city  streets 
to  remind  city  dwellers  of  spring.  "  Every  flower 
its  own  bow-kwet,"  is  the  call  of  the  vender. 
Bunches  of  Locust  blossoms  follow,  awkwardly  tied 
together.  Though  the  Magnolia  is  earlier,  I  do 
not  find  it  much  more  splendid  as  a  flowering  tree 
for  the  garden  than  our  northern  Dogwood ;  and 
the  Dogwood  when  in  bloom  seems  just  as  tropi- 
cal. It  is  then  the  glory  of  the  landscape ;  and  its 
radiant  starry  blossoms  turn  into  ideal  beauty  even 
our  sombre  cemeteries. 


156  Old  Time  Gardens 

The  Magnolia  has  been  planted  in  northern 
gardens  for  over  a  century.  Gardens  on  Long 
Island  have  many  beautiful  old  specimens,  doubt- 
less furnished  by  the  Prince  Nurseries.  These 
seem  thoroughly  at  home ;  just  as  does  the  Locust 
brought  from  Virginia,  a  century  ago,  by  one  Cap- 
tain Sands  of  Sands  Point,  to  please  his  Virginia 
bride  with  the  presence  of  the  trees  of  her  girlhood's 
home.  These  Locusts  have  spread  over  every  rood 
of  Long  Island  earth,  and  seem  as  much  at  home  as 
Birch  or  Willow.  The  three  Magnolia  trees  on 
Mr.  Brown's  lawn  in  Flatbush  are  as  large  as  any  I 
know  in  the  North,  and  were  exceptionally  full 
of  bloom  this  year,  this  photograph  (shown  facing 
page  148)  being  taken  when  they  were  past  their 
prime.  I  saw  children  eagerly  gathering  the  waxy 
petals  which  had  fallen,  and  which  show  so  plainly 
in  the  picture.  But  the  flower  is  not  common 
enough  here  for  northern  children  to  learn  the  varied 
attractions  of  the  Magnolia. 

The  flower  lore  of  American  children  is  nearly 
all  of  English  derivation  ;  but  children  invent  as 
well  as  copy.  In  the  South  the  lavish  growth  of 
the  Magnolia  affords  multiform  playthings.  The 
beautiful  broad  white  petals  give  a  snowy  surface 
for  the  inditing  of  messages  or  valentines,  which 
are  written  with  a  pin,  when  the  letters  turn  dark 
brown.  The  stamens  of  the  flower  —  waxlike  with 
red  tips  —  make  mock  illuminating  matches.  The 
leaves  shape  into  wonderful  drinking  cups,  and  the 
scarlet  seeds  give  a  glowing  necklace. 

The    glories  of  a  spring    garden    are  not  in  the 


In   Lilac  Tide  157 

rows  of  flowering  bulbs,  beautiful  as  they  are ;  but 
in  the  flowering  shrubs  and  trees.  The  old  gar- 
den had  few  shrubs,  but  it  had  unsurpassed  beauty 
in  its  rows  of  fruit  trees  which  in  their  blossoming 
give  the  spring  garden,  as  here  shown,  that  lovely 


A  Thought  of  Winter's  Snows. 


whiteness  which  seems  a  blending  of  the  seasons 
—  a  thought  of  winter's  snows.  The  perfection 
of  Apple  blossoms  I  have  told  in  another  chapter. 
Earlier  to  appear  was  the  pure  white,  rather  chilly, 
blooms  of  the  Plum  tree,  to  the  Japanese  "  the 
eldest  brother  of  an  hundred  flowers."  They  are 


158  Old  Time  Gardens 

faintly  sweet-scented  with  the  delicacy  found  in 
many  spring  blossoms.  A  good  example  of  the 
short  verses  of  the  Japanese  poets  tells  of  the  Plum 
blossom  and  its  perfume. 

"In  springtime,  on  a  cloudless  night, 

When  moonbeams  throw  their  silver  pall 
O'er  wooded  landscapes,  veiling  all 

In  one  soft  cloud  of  misty  white, 

'Twere  vain  almost  to  hope  to  trace 
The  Plum  trees  in  their  lovely  bloom 
Of  argent  ;  'tis  their  sweet  perfume 

Alone  which  leads  me  to  their  place." 

The  lovely  family  of  double  white  Plum  blos- 
soms which  now  graces  our  gardens  is  varied  by 
tinted  ones  ;  there  are  sixty  in  all  which  the  nine- 
teenth century  owes  to  Japan. 

The  Peach  tree  has  a  flower  which  has  given  name 
to  one  of  the  loveliest  colors  in  the  world.  The 
Peach  has  varieties  with  wonderful  double  flowers 
of  glorious  color.  Cherry  trees  bear  a  more  cheer- 
ful white  flower  than  Plum  trees. 

"  The  Cherry  boughs  above  us  spread 
The  whitest  shade  was  ever  seen  ; 
And  flicker,  flicker  came  and  fled 
Sun-spots  between." 

I  do  not  recall  the  Judas  tree  in  my  childhood. 
I  am  told  there  were  many  in  Worcester ;  but  there 
were  none  in  our  garden,  nor  in  our  neighborhood, 
and  that  was  my  world.  Orchids  might  have  hung 
from  the  trees  a  mile  from  my  home,  and  would 


In  Lilac  Tide  159 

have  been  no  nearer  me  than  the  tropics.  I  had  a 
small  world,  but  it  was  large  enough,  since  it  was 
bounded  by  garden  walls. 

Almond  trees  are  seldom  seen  in  northern  gar- 
dens ;  but  the  Flowering  Almond  flourishes  as  one 
of  the  purest  and  loveliest  familiar  shrubs.  Silvery 
pink  in  bloom  when  it  opens,  the  pink  darkens  till 
when  in  full  flower  it  is  deeply  rosy.  It  was,  next 
to  the  Lilac,  the  favorite  shrub  of  my  childhood. 
I  used  to  call  the  exquisite  little  blooms  "  fairy 
roses,"  and  there  were  many  fairy  tales  relating  to 
the  Almond  bush.  This  made  the  flower  enhaloed 
with  sentiment  and  mystery,  which  charmed  as  much 
as  its  beauty.  The  Flowering  Almond  seemed  to 
have  a  special  place  under  a  window  in  country 
yards  and  gardens,  as  it  is  shown  on  page  39.  A 
fitting  spot  it  was,  since  it  never  grew  tall  enough  to 
shade  the  little  window  panes. 

With  Pussy-willows  and  Almond  blossoms  and 
Ladies'  Delights,  with  blossoming  playhouse  Apple 
trees  and  sweet-scented  Lilac  walks,  spring  was  cer- 
tainly Paradise  in  our  childhood.  Would  it  were  an 
equally  happy  season  in  mature  years;  but  who, 
garden-bred,  can  walk  in  the  springtime  through  the 
garden  of  her  childhood  without  thought  of  those 
who  cared  for  the  garden  in  its  youth,  and  shared 
the  care  of  their  children  with  the  care  of  their 
flowers,  but  now  are  seen  no  more. 

"  Oh,  far  away  in  some  serener  air, 
The  eyes  that  loved  them  see  a  heavenly  dawn  : 
How  can  they  bloom  without  her  tender  care  ? 
Why  should  they  live  when  her  sweet  life  is  gone  ?  " 


160  Old  Time  Gardens 

I  have  written  of  the  gladness  of  spring,  but  I  know 
nothing  more  overwhelming  than  the  heartache  of 
spring,  the  sadness  of  a  fresh-growing  spring  garden. 
Where  is  the  dear  one  who  planted  it  and  loved  it, 
and  he  who  helped  her  in  the  care,  and  the  loving 
child  who  played  in  it  and  left  it  in  the  springtime  ? 
All  that  is  good  and  beautiful  has  come  again  to  us 
with  the  sunlight  and  warmth,  save  those  whom  we 
still  love  but  can  see  no  more.  By  that  very  meas- 
ure of  happiness  poured  for  us  in  childhood  in  Lilac 
tide,  is  our  cup  of  sadness  now  filled. 


CHAPTER   VII 


OLD    FLOWER    FAVORITES 

"  God  does  not  send  us  strange  flowers  every  year. 
When  the  spring  winds  blow  o'er  the  pleasant  places 
The  same  dear  things  lift  up  the  same  fair  faces ; 
The  Violet  is  here. 

"It  all  comes  back  ;  the  odor,  grace,  and  hue 
Each  sweet  relation  of  its  life  repeated  ; 
No  blank  is  left,  no  looking-for  is  cheated  ; 
It  is  the  thing  we  knew." 

—  ADELINE  D.  T.  WHITNEY,    1861. 


OT  only  do  I  love  to  see  the 
same  dear  things  year  after 
year,  and  to  welcome  the  same 
odor,  grace,  and  hue ;  but  I 
love  to  find  them  in  the  same 
places.  1  like  a  garden  in 
which  plants  have  been  grow- 
ing in  one  spot  for  a  long  time, 
where  they  have  a  fixed  home  and  surroundings. 
In  our  garden  the  same  flowers  shoulder  each  other 
comfortably  and  crowd  each  other  a  little,  year  after 
year.  They  look,  my  sister  says,  like  long-estab- 
lished neighbors,  like  old  family  friends,  not  as  if  they 
had  just  "  moved  in,"  and  didn't  know  each  other's 
names  and  faces.  Plants  grow  better  when  they  are 


162 


Old  Time  Gardens 


among  flower  friends.  I  suppose  we  have  to  trans- 
plant some  plants,  sometimes  ;  but  I  would  try  to 
keep  old  friends  together  even  in  those  removals. 
They  would  be  lonely  when  they  opened  their  eyes 
after  the  winter's  sleep,  and  saw  strange  flower  forms 
and  unknown  faces  around  them. 


Larkspur  and  Phlox. 

For  flowers  have  friendships,  and  antipathies  as 
well.  How  Canterbury  Bells  and  Foxgloves  love 
to  grow  side  by  side  !  And  Sweet  Williams,  with 
Foxgloves,  as  here  shown.  And  in  my  sister's  gar- 
den Larkspur  always  starts  up  by  white  Phlox  —  see 
a  bit  of  the  border  on  this  page.  Whatever  may 
influence  these  docile  alliances,  it  isn't  a  proper 
sense  of  fitness  of  color ;  for  Tiger  Lilies  dearly 


Old   Flower   Favorites 


163 


love  to  grow  by  crimson-purple  Phlox,  a  most 
inharmonious  association,  and  you  can  hardly 
separate  them.  If  a  flower  dislikes  her  neighbor 
in  the  garden,  she  moves  quietly  away,  I  don't  know 
where  or  how.  Sometimes  she  dies,  but  at  any  rate 
she  is  gone.  It  is  so  queer;  I  have  tried  every  year 
to  make  Feverfew  grow  in  this  bed,  and  it  won't  do 
it,  though  it  grows  across  the  path.  There  is  some 
flower  here 
that  the  pom- 
pous Feverfew 
doesn't  care  to 
associate  with. 
Not  the  Lark- 
spur, for  they 
are  famous 
friends  —  per- 
haps it  is  the 
Sweet  William, 
who  is  rather 
a  plain  fellow. 
In  general 
flowers  are  very 

sociable      with  Sweet  William  and  Foxglove. 

each  other,  but 

they  have  some  preferences,  and  these  are  powerful 

ones. 

It  is  amusing  to  read  in  no  less  than  five  recent 
English  "garden-books,"  by  flower-loving  souls, 
the  solemn  advice  that  if  you  wish  a  beautiful  gar- 
den effect  you  "  must  plant  the  great  Oriental  Poppy 
by  the  side  of  the  White  Lupine." 


164 


Old  Time  Gardens 


Thou  say'st  an  undisputed  thing 
In  such  a  solemn  way." 


The  truth  is,  you  have  very  little  to  do  with  it. 

That    Poppy  chooses   to  keep    company   with   the 

White  Lupine, 
and  to  that  im- 
pulse you  owe 
your  fine  gar- 
den effect.  The 
Poppy  is  the 
slyest  magician 
of  the  whole 
garden.  H  e 
comes  and  goes 
at  will.  This 
year  a  few 
blooms,  nearly 
all  in  one  cor- 
ner; next  year 
a  blaze  of  color, 
banded  across 
the  middle  of 
the  garden  like 
the  broad  sash 
of  acourt  cham- 
berlain. Then 
a  single  grand 

blossom  quite  alone  in  the  pansy  bed,  while  another 

pushes  up  between  the  tight  close  leaves  of  the  box 

edging  :  —  the  Poppy  is  queer. 

Some  flowers  have  such  a  hatred  of  man  they  can- 


Plume  Poppy. 


Old  Flower  Favorites  165 

not  breathe  and  live  in  his  presence,  others  have  an 
equal  love  of  human  companionship.  The  white 
Clover  clings  here  to  our  pathway  as  does  the  Eng- 
lish Daisy  across  seas.  And  in  our  garden  Ladies' 
Delights  and  Ambrosia  tell  us,  without  words,  of 
their  love  for  us  and  longing  to  be  by  our  side ; 
'ust  as  plainly  as  a  child  silently  tells  us  his  love 
ind  dependence  on  us  by  taking  our  hand  as  we 
walk  side  by  side.  There  is  not  another  gesture 
of  childhood,  not  an  affectionate  word  which  ever 
touched  my  heart  as  did  that  trustful  holding 
of  the  hand.  One  of  my  children  throughout  his 
brief  life  never  walked  by  my  side  without  clinging 
closely — I  think  without  conscious  intent  —  with 
his  little  hand  to  mine.  I  can  never  forget  the  affec- 
tion, the  trust  of  that  vanished  hand. 

I  find  that  my  dearest  flower  loves  are  the  old 
flowers,  —  not  only  old  to  me  because  I  knew  them 
in  childhood,  but  old  in  cultivation. 

"  Give  me  the  good  old  weekday  blossoms 

I  used  to  see  so  long  ago, 
With  hearty  sweetness  in  their  bosoms, 
Ready  and  glad  to  bud  and  blow." 

Even  were  they  newcomers,  we  should  speedily 
care  for  them,  they  are  so  lovable,  so  winning,  so 
endearing.  If  I  had  seen  to-day  for  the  first  time  a 
Fritillaria,  a  Violet,  a  Lilac,  a  Bluebell,  or  a  Rose,  I 
know  it  would  be  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight.  But 
with  intimacy  they  have  grown  dearer  still. 

The  sense  of  long-continued  acquaintance  and 
friendship  which  we  feel  for  many  garden  flowers 


1 66  Old  Time  Gardens 

extends  to  a  few  blossoms  of  field  and  forest.  It  is 
felt  to  an  inexplicable  degree  by  all  New  Englanders 
for  the  Trailing  Arbutus,  our  Mayflower ;  and  it  is 
this  unformulated  sentiment  which  makes  us  like  to 
go  to  the  same  spot  year  after  year  to  gather  these 
beloved  flowers.  I  am  sensible  of  this  friendship 
for  Buttercups,  they  seem  the  same  flowers  I  knew 
last  year ;  and  I  have  a  distinct  sympathy  with  Owen 
Meredith's  poem:  — 

"  I  pluck  the  flowers  I  plucked  of  old 
About  my  feet  —  yet  fresh  and  cold 
The  Buttercups  do  bend  ; 
The  selfsame  Buttercups  they  seem, 
Thick  in  the  bright-eyed  green,  and  such 
As  when  to  me  their  blissful  gleam 
Was  all  earth's  gold  —  how  much  !  " 

We  have  little  of  the  intense  sentiment,  the  inspi- 
ration which  filled  flower-lovers  of  olden  times.  We 
admire  flowers  certainly  as  beautiful  works  of  nature, 
as  objects  of  wonder  in  mechanism  and  in  the  profu- 
sion of  growth,  and  we  are  occasionally  roused  to 
feelings  of  gratitude  to  the  Maker  and  Giver  of 
such  beauty ;  but  it  is  not  precisely  the  same  regard 
that  the  old  gardeners  and  "  flowerists  "  had,  which 
is  expressed  in  this  quotation  from  Gerarde  of  "the 
gallant  grace  of  violets  "  :  — 

"  They  admonish  and  stir  up  a  man  to  that  which  is 
comelie  and  honest  ;  for  flowers  through  their  beautie, 
varietie  of  colour  and  exquisite  forme  doe  bring  to  a  liberall 
and  gentlemanly  mind,  the  remembrance  of  honestie,  come- 
linesse  and  all  kinds  of  virtues." 


Old  Flower  Favorites 


167 


It  was  a  virtue  to  be  comely  in  those  days  ;  as 
it  is  indeed  a  virtue  now  ;  and  to  the  pious  old 
herbalists  it  seemed  an  impossible  thing  that  any  cre- 
ation which  was  beautiful  should  not  also  be  good. 

All  flowers 
cannot  be  loved 
with  equal 
warmth ;  it  is 
possible  to  have 
a  wholesome  lik- 
ing for  a  flower, 
a  wish  to  see  it 
around  you, 
which  would 
make  you  plant 
it  in  your  bor- 
ders and  treat  it 
well,  but  which 
would  not  be 
at  all  akin  to 
love.  For  others 
you  have  a  placid 
tolerance;  others 
you  esteem  — 
good,  virtuous, 
worthy  crea- 
tures, but  you 

cannot    Warm  Meadow  Rue. 

toward    them. 

Sometimes  they  have  been  sung  with  passion 
by  poets  (Swinburne  is  always  glowing  over  very 
unresponsive  flower  souls)  and  they  have  been 


1 68  Old  Time  Gardens 

painted  with  fervor  by  artists  —  and  still  you  do 
not  love  them.  I  do  not  love  Tulips,  but  I  wel- 
come them  very  cordially  in  my  garden.  Others 
have  loved  them  ;  the  Tulip  has  had  her  head 
turned  by  attention. 

Some  flowers  we  like  at  first  sight,  but  they  do 
not  wear  well.  This  is  a  hard  truth  ;  and  I  shall 
not  shame  the  garden-creatures  who  have  done  their 
best  to  please  by  betraying  them  to  the  world,  save 
in  a  single  case  to  furnish  an  example.  In  late 
August  the  Bergamot  blossoms  in  luxuriant  heads 
of  white  and  purplish  pink  bloom,  similar  in  tint 
to  the  abundant  Phlox.  Both  grow  freely  in  the 
garden  of  Sylvester  Manor.  When  the  Bergamot 
has  romped  in  your  borders  for  two  or  three  years, 
you  may  wish  to  exile  it  to  a  vegetable  garden, 
near  the  blackberry  vines.  Is  this  because  it  is  an 
herb  instead  of  a  purely  decorative  flower  ?  You 
never  thus  thrust  out  Phlox.  A  friend  confesses  to 
me  that  she  exiled  even  the  splendid  scarlet  Berga- 
mot after  she  had  grown  it  for  three  years  in  her 
flower-beds ;  such  subtle  influences  control  our 
flower-loves. 

Beautiful  and  noble  as  are  the  grand  contributions 
of  the  nineteenth  century  to  us  from  the  garden  and 
fields  of  Japan  and  China,  we  seldom  speak  of  loving 
them.  Thus  the  Chinese  White  Wistaria  is  similar 
in  shape  of  blossom  to  the  Scotch  Laburnum,  though 
a  far  more  elegant,  more  lavish  flower ;  but  the 
Laburnum  is  the  loved  one.  I  used  to  read  long- 
ingly of  the  Laburnum  in  volumes  of  English 
poetry,  especially  in  Hood's  verses,  beginning :  — 


Old  Flower  Favorites  169 

"  I  remember,  I  remember, 
The  house  where  I  was  born," 

Ella  Partridge  had  a  tall  Laburnum  tree  at  her  front 
door  ;  it  peeped  in  the  second-story  windows.  It  was 
so  cherished,  that  I  doubt  whether  its  blooms  were 
ever  gathered.  She  told  us  with  conscious  pride 
and  rectitude  that  it  was  a  "  yellow  Wistaria  tree 
which  came  from  China  "  ;  I  saw  no  reason  to  doubt 
her  words,  and  as  I  never  chanced  to  speak  to  my 
parents  about  it,  I  ever  thought  of  it  as  a  yellow 
Wistaria  tree  until  I  went  out  into  the  world  and 
found  it  was  a  Scotch  Laburnum. 

Few  garden  owners  plant  now  the  Snowberry, 
Symphoricarpus  racemosiis,  once  seen  in  every  front 
yard,  and  even  used  for  hedges.  It  wasn't  a  very 
satisfactory  shrub  in  its  habit ;  the  oval  leaves  were 
not  a  cheerful  green,  and  were  usually  pallid  with 
mildew.  The  flowers  were  insignificant,  but  the 
clusters  of  berries  were  as  pure  as  pearls.  In  country 
homes,  before  the  days  of  cheap  winter  flowers  and 
omnipresent  greenhouses,  these  snowy  clusters  were 
cherished  to  gather  in  winter  to  place  on  coffins  and 
in  hands  as  white  and  cold  as  the  berries.  Its  special 
offence  in  our  garden  was  partly  on  account  of  this 
funereal  association,  but  chiefly  because  we  were  never 
permitted  to  gather  its  berries  to  string  into  necklaces. 
They  were  rigidly  preserved  on  the  stem  as  a  garden 
decoration  in  winter ;  though  they  were  too  closely 
akin  in  color  to  the  encircling  snowdrifts  to  be  of 
any  value. 

In  country  homes  in  olden  times  were  found  sev- 


ijo  Old  Time  Gardens 

eral  universal  winter  posies.  On  the  narrow  mantel 
shelves  of  farm  and  village  parlors,  both  in  England 
and  America,  still  is  seen  a  winter  posy  made  of  dried 
stalks  of  the  seed  valves  of  a  certain  flower ;  they 
are  shown  on  the  opposite  page.  Let  us  see  how 
our  old  friend,  Gerarde,  describes  this  plant :  — 

"The  stalkes  are  loden  with  many  flowers  like  the 
stocke-gilliflower,  of  a  purple  colour,  which,  being  fallen, 
the  seede  cometh  foorthe  conteined  in  a  flat  thinne  cod, 
with  a  sharp  point  or  pricke  at  one  end,  in  fashion  of  the 
moone,  and  somewhat  blackish.  This  cod  is  composed  of 
three  filmes  or  skins  whereof  the  two  outermost  are  of  an 
overworne  ashe  colour,  and  the  innermost,  or  that  in  the 
middle  whereon  the  seed  doth  hang  or  cleave,  is  thin  and 
cleere  shining,  like  a  piece  of  white  satten  newly  cut  from 
the  peece." 

In  the  latter  clause  of  this  striking  description  is 
given  the  reason  for  the  popular  name  of  the  flower, 
Satin-flower  or  White  Satin,  for  the  inner  septum  is  a 
shining  membrane  resembling  white  satin.  Another 
interesting  name  is  Pricksong-flower.  All  who  have 
seen  sheets  of  music  of  Elizabethan  days,  when  the 
notes  of  music  were  called  pricks,  and  the  whole 
sheet  a  pricksong,  will  readily  trace  the  resemblance 
to  the  seeds  of  this  plant. 

Gerarde  says  it  was  named  cc  Penny-floure,  Money- 
floure,  Silver-plate,  Sattin,  and  among  our  women 
called  Honestie."  The  last  name  was  commonly 
applied  at  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century.  It  is 
thus  named  in  writings  of  Rev.  William  Hanbury, 
1771,  and  a  Boston  seedsman  then  advertised  seeds 


Old  Flower  Favorites 


171 


of  Honestie  "in  small  quantities,  that  all  might 
have  some."  In  1665,  Josselyn  found  White  Satin 
planted  and  growing  plentifully  in  New  England 
gardens,  where  I  am  sure  it  formed,  in  garden  and 
house,  a  happy 
re  mi  nde  r  o  f 
their  English 
homes  to  the 
wives  of  the  col- 
onists. Since 
that  time  it  has 
spread  so  freely 
in  some  locali- 
ties, especially 
in  southern 
Connecticut, 
that  it  grows 
wild  by  the 
wayside.  It  is 
seldom  seen 
now  in  well- 
kept  gardens, 
though  it 
should  be,  for 

It     is     really     a  Money-in-both-pockets. 

lovely     flower, 

showing  from  white  to  varied  and  rich  light  purples. 
I  was  charmed  with  its  fresh  beauty  this  spring  in 
the  garden  of  Mrs.  Mabel  Osgood  Wright ;  a  pho- 
tograph of  one  of  her  borders  containing  Honesty 
is  shown  opposite  page  174. 

At  Belvoir  Castle  in  England,  in  the  "  Duchess's 


172  Old  Time  Gardens 

Garden,"  the  Satin-flower  can  be  seen  in  full  variety 
of  tint,  and  fills  an  important  place.  It  is  care- 
fully cultivated  by  seed  and  division,  all  inferior 
plants  being  promptly  destroyed,  while  the  superior 
blossoms  are  cherished. 

The  flower  was  much  used  in  charms  and  spells, 
as  was  everything  connected  with  the  moon.  Dray- 
ton's  Clarinax  sings  of  Lunaria  :  — 

"  Enchanting  lunarie  here  lies 
In  sorceries  excelling." 

As  a  child  this  Lunaria  was  a  favorite  flower,  for 
it  afforded  to  us  juvenile  money.  Indeed,  it  was 
generally  known  among  us  as  Money-flower  or 
Money-seed,  or  sometimes  as  Money-in-both-pock- 
ets.  The  seed  valves  formed  our  medium  of  ex- 
change and  trade,  passing  as  silver  dollars. 

Through  the  streets  of  a  New  England  village 
there  strolled,  harmless  and  happy,  one  who  was 
known  in  village  parlance  as  a  "  softy,"  one  of 
"  God's  fools,"  a  poor  addle-pated,  simple-minded 
creature,  witless  —  but  neither  homeless  nor  friend- 
less ;  for  children  cared  for  him,  and  feeble-minded 
though  he  was,  he  managed  to  earn,  by  rush-seating 
chairs  and  weaving  coarse  baskets,  and  gathering 
berries,  scant  pennies  enough  to  keep  him  alive ; 
and  he  slept  in  a  deserted  barn,  in  a  field  full  of 
rocks  and  Daisies  and  Blueberry  bushes,  —  a  barn 
which  had  been  built  by  one  but  little  more  gifted 
with  wits  than  himself.  Poor  Elmer  never  was  able 
to  understand  that  the  money  which  he  and  the 
children  saved  so  carefully  each  autumn  from  the 


Old   Flower  Favorites 


'73 


money  plants  was  not  equal  in  value  to  the  great 
copper  cents  of  the  village  store ;  and  when  he 
asked  gleefully  for  a  loaf  of  bread  or  a  quart  of 


Box  Walk  in  Garden  of  Frederick  J.   Kingsbury,   Esq. 
Waterbury,  Connecticut. 

molasses,  was  just  as  apt  to  offer  the  shining  seed 
valves  in  payment  as  he  was  to  give  the  coin  of 
the  land ;  and  it  must  be  added  that  his  belief  re- 
ceived apparent  confirmation  in  the  fact  that  he  usu- 
ally got  the  bread  whether  he  gave  seeds  or  cents. 


174  Old  Time  Gardens 

He  lost  his  life  through  his  poor  simple  notion. 
In  the  village  he  was  kindly  treated  by  all,  clothed, 
fed,  and  warmed ;  but  one  day  there  came  skulking 
along  the  edge  of  the  village  what  were  then  rare 
visitors,  two  tramps,  who  by  ill-chance  met  poor 
Elmer  as  he  was  gathering  chestnuts.  And  as  the 
children  lingered  on  their  way  home  from  school  to 
take  toll  of  Elmer's  store  of  nuts,  they  heard  him 
boasting  gleefully  of  his  wealth,  "  hundreds  and 
hundreds  of  dollars  all  safe  for  wintei.  '  The  chil- 
dren knew  what  his  dollars  were,  but  the  tramps 
did  not.  Three  days  of  heavy  rain  passed  by,  and 
Elmer  did  not  appear  at  the  store  or  any  house. 
Then  kindly  neighbors  went  to  his  barn  in  the  dis- 
tant field,  and  found  him  cruelly  beaten,  with  broken 
ribs  and  in  a  high  fever,  while  scattered  around  him 
were  hundreds  of  the  seeds  of  his  autumnal  store  of 
the  money  plant;  these  were  all  the  silver  dollars 
his  assailants  found.  He  was  carried  to  the  alms- 
house  and  died  in  a  few  weeks,  partly  from  the  beat- 
ing, partly  from  exposure,  but  chiefly,  I  ever  believed, 
from  homesickness  in  his  enforced  home.  His  old 
house  has  fallen  down,  but  his  well  still  is  open,  and 
around  it  grows  a  vast  expanse  of  Lunaria,  which 
has  spread  and  grown  from  the  seeds  poor  Elmer 
saved,  and  every  year  shoots  of  the  tender  lilac 
blooms  mingle  so  charmingly  with  the  white  Daisies 
that  the  sterile  field  is  one  of  the  show-places  of  the 
village,  and  people  drive  from  afar  to  see  it. 

There  grow  in  profusion  in  our  home  garden  what 
I  always  called  the  Mullein  Pink,  the  Rose  Campion 
(Lychnis  coronaria).  I  never  heard  any  one  speak 


Old  Flower  Favorites  175 

of  this  plant  with  special  affection  or  admiration  ; 
but  as  a  child  I  loved  its  crimson  flower  more  than 
any  other  flower  in  the  garden.  Perhaps  I  should 
say  I  loved  the  royal  color  rather  than  the  flower. 
I  gathered  tight  bunches  without  foliage  into  a 
glowing  mass  of  color  unequalled  in  richness  of 
tint  by  anything  in  nature.  I  have  seen  only  in  a 
stained  glass  window  flooded  with  high  sunlight  a 
crimson  approaching  that  of  the  Mullein  Pink. 
Gerarde  calls  the  flower  the  "  Gardener's  Delight  or 
Gardner's  Eie."  It  was  known  in  French  as  the 
Eye  of  God  ;  and  the  Rose  of  Heaven.  We  used 
to  rub  our  cheeks  with  the  woolly  leaves  to  give  a 
beautiful  rosy  blush,  and  thereby  I  once  skinned 
one  cheek. 

Snapdragons  were  a  beloved  flower  —  companions 
of  my  childhood  in  our  home  garden,  but  they 
have  been  neglected  a  bit  by  nearly  every  one  of 
late  years.  Plant  a  clump  of  the  clear  yellow  and 
one  of  pure  white  Snapdragons,  and  see  how  beauti- 
ful they  are  in  the  garden,  and  how  fresh  they  keep 
when  cut.  We  had  such  a  satisfying  bunch  of 
them  on  the  dinner  table  to-day,  in  a  milk-white 
glazed  Chinese  jar;  yellow  Snapdragons,  with  ".bor- 
rowed leaves"  of  Virgin's-bower  (Adlumia)  and  a 
haze  of  Gypsophila  over  all. 

A  flower  much  admired  in  gardens  during  the  early 
years  of  the  nineteenth  century  was  the  Plume 
Poppy  (Bocconia).  It  has  a  pretty  pinkish  bloom 
in  general  shape  somewhat  like  Meadow  Rue  (see 
page  164  and  page  167).  A  friend  fancied  a  light 
feathery  look  over  certain  of  her  garden  borders, 


176  Old  Time  Gardens 

and  she  planted  plentifully  Plume  Poppy  and 
Meadow  Rue;  this  was  in  1895.  In  1896  the  effect 
was  exquisite;  in  1897  the  garden  feathered  out 
with  far  too  much  fulness;  in  1901  all  the  com- 
bined forces  of  all  the  weeds  of  the  garden  could 
not  equal  these  two  flowers  in  utter  usurpment  and 
close  occupation  of  every  inch  of  that  garden. 
The  Plume  Poppy  has  a  strong  tap-root  which 
would  be  a  good  symbol  of  the  root  of  the  tree 
Ygdrassyl — the  Tree  of  Life,  that  never  dies. 
You  can  go  over  the  borders  with  scythe  and  spade 
and  hoe,  and  even  with  manicure-scissors,  but  roots 
of  the  Plume  Poppy  will  still  hide  and  send  up 
vigorous  growth  the  succeeding  year. 

We  have  grown  so  familiar  with  some  old  doubled 
blossoms  that  we  think  little  of  their  being  double. 
One  such,  symmetrical  of  growth,  beautiful  of  foliage, 
and  gratifying  of  bloom,  is  the  Double  Buttercup. 
It  is  to  me  distinctly  one  of  our  most  old-fashioned 
flowers  in  aspect.  A  hardy  great  clump  of  many 
years'  growth  is  one  of  the  ancient  treasures  of  our 
garden;  its  golden  globes  are  known  in  England  as 
Bachelor's  Buttons,  and  are  belieVed  by  many  to  be 
the  Bachelor's  Buttons  of  Shakespeare's  day. 

Dahlias  afford  a  striking  example  of  the  beauty  of 
single  flowers  when  compared  to  their  doubled  de- 
scendants. Single  Dahlias  are  fine  flowers,  the  yellow 
and  scarlet  ones  especially  so.  I  never  thought 
double  Dahlias  really  worth  the  trouble  spent  on 
them  in  our  Northern  gardens ;  so  much  staking 
and  tying,  and  fussing,  and  usually  an  autumn  storm 
wrenches  them  round  and  breaks  the  stem  or  a  frost 


Old  Flower  Favorites 


177 


nips  them  just  as  they  are  in   bloom.      A   Dahlia 
hedge    or    a    walk    such    as    this    one    at    Ravens- 


Dahlia  Walk  at  Ravensworth. 


worth,  Virginia,  is  most  stately  and   satisfying.      I 
like,  in  moderation,  many  of  the  smaller  single  and 


iy8  Old  Time  Gardens 

double  Sunflowers.  Under  the  reign  of  Patience, 
the  Sunflower  had  a  fleeting  day  of  popularity,  and 
flaunted  in  garden  and  parlor.  Its  place  was  false. 
It  was  never  a  garden  flower  in  olden  times,  in  the 
sense  of  being  a  flower  of  ornament  or  beauty  ;  its 
place  was  in  the  kitchen  garden,  where  it  belongs. 

Peas  have  ever  been  favorites  in  English  gardens 
since  they  were  brought  to  England.  We  have  all 
seen  the  print,  if  not  the  portrait,  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
garbed  in  a  white  satin  robe  magnificently  embroi- 
dered with  open  pea-pods  and  butterflies.  A  "  City 
of  London  Madam  "  had  a  delightful  head  ornament 
of  open  pea-pods  filled  with  peas  of  pearls  ;  this  was 
worn  over  a  hood  of  gold-embroidered  muslin,  and 
with  dyed  red  hair,  must  have  been  a  most  modish 
affair.  Sweet  Peas  have  had  a  unique  history.  They 
have  been  for  a  century  a  much-loved  flower  of  the 
people  both  in  England  and  America,  and  they  were 
at  home  in  cottage  borders  and  fine  gardens ;  were 
placed  in  vases,  and  carried  in  nosegays  and  posies; 
were  loved  of  poets  —  Keats  wrote  an  exquisite 
characterization  of  them.  They  had  beauty  of  color, 
and  a  universally  loved  perfume  —  but  florists  have 
been  blind  to  them  till  within  a  few  years.  A  bicen- 
tenary exhibition  of  Sweet  Peas  was  given  in  Lon- 
don in  July,  1900;  now  there  is  formed  a  Sweet 
Pea  Society.  But  no  societies  and  no  exhibitions 
ever  will  make  them  a  "  florist's  flower  "  ;  they  are 
of  value  only  for  cutting;  their  habit  of  growth 
renders  them  useless  as  a  garden  decoration. 

We  all  take  notions  in  regard  to  flowers,  just  as 
we  do  in  regard  to  people.  I  hear  one  friend  say, 


Old  Flower  Favorites  179 

"  I  love  every  flower  that  grows,"  but  I  answer  with 
emphasis,  "  I  don't !  "  I  have  ever  disliked  the 
Portulaca, —  I  hate  its  stems.  It  is  my  fate  never 
to  escape  it.  I  planted  it  once  to  grow  under  Sweet 
Alyssum  in  the  little  enclosure  of  earth  behind  my 
city  home;  when  I  returned  in  the  autumn,  every- 
thing was  covered,  blanketed,  overwhelmed  with 
Portulaca.  Since  then  it  comes  up  even  in  the 
grass,  and  seems  to  thrive  by  being  trampled  upon. 
The  Portulaca  was  not  a  flower  of  colonial  days ;  I 
am  glad  to  learn  our  great-grandmothers  were  not 
pestered  with  it ;  it  was  not  described  in  the  Botani- 
cal Magazine  till  1829. 

I  do  not  care  for  the  Petunia  close  at  hand  on 
account  of  its  sickish  odor.  But  in  the  dusky  border 
the  flowers  shine  like  white  stars  (page  1 80),  and  make 
you  almost  forgive  their  poor  colors  in  the  daylight. 
I  never  liked  the  Calceolaria.  Every  child  in  our 
town  used  to  have  a  Calceolaria  in  her  own  small  gar- 
den plot,  but  I  never  wanted  one.  I  care  little  for 
Chrysanthemums  ;  they  fill  in  the  border  in  autumn, 
and  they  look  pretty  well  growing,  but  I  like  few  of 
the  flowers  close  at  hand.  By  some  curious  twist  of 
a  brain  which,  alas  !  is  apt  not  to  deal  as  it  is  ex- 
pected and  ought  to,  with  sensations  furnished  to  it,  I 
have  felt  this  distaste  for  Chrysanthemums  since 
I  attended  a  Chrysanthemum  Show.  Of  course,  I 
ought  to  love  them  far  more,  and  have  more  eager 
interest  in  them  —  but  I  do  not.  Their  sister,  the 
China  Aster,  I  care  little  for.  The  Germans  call 
Asters  "  death-flowers."  The  Empress  of  Austria 
at  the  Swiss  hotel  where  she  lodged  just  before  she 


i8o 


Old  Time  Gardens 


was  murdered,  found  the  rooms  decorated  with  China 
Asters.  She  said  to  her  attendant  that  the  flowers 
were  in  Austria  termed  death-flowers  — and  so  they 
proved.  The  Aster  is  among  the  flowers  prohibited 
in  Japan  for  felicitous  occasions,  as  are  the  Balsam, 

Rhododendron, 
and  Azalea. 

Those  who 
read  these  pages 
may  note  per- 
haps that  I  say 
little  of  Lilies. 
I  do  not  care  as 
much  for  them 
as  most  garden 
lovers  do.  I 
like  all  our  wild 
Lilies,  especially 
the  yellow  Nod- 
ding Lily  of  our 
fields ;  and  the 
Lemon  Lily  of 
our  gardens  is 
ever  a  delight; 
but  the  stately 
Lilies  which  are 
such  general  favorites,  Madonna  Lilies,  Japan  Lilies, 
the  Gold-banded  Lilies,  are  not  especially  dear  to  me. 
I  love  climbing  vines,  whether  of  delicate  leaf  or 
beautiful  flower.  In  a  room  I  place  all  the  decora- 
tion that  I  can  on  the  walls,  out  of  the  way,  leaving 
thus  space  to  move  around  without  fear  of  displace- 


Petunias. 


Old  Flower  Favorites  181 

ment  or  injury  of  fragile  things;  so  in  a  limited  gar- 
den space,  grass  room  under  our  feet,  with  flowering 
vines  on  the  surrounding  walls  are  better  than  many 
crowded  flower  borders.  A  tiny  space  can  quickly 
be  made  delightful  with  climbing  plants.  The  com- 
mon Morning-glory,  called  in  England  the  Bell-bind, 
is  frequently  advertised  by  florists  of  more  encourage- 
ment than  judgment,  as  suitable  to  plant  freely  in 
order  to  cover  fences  and  poor  sandy  patches  of 
ground  with  speedy  and  abundant  leafage  and  bloom. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  the  Morning-glory  will  do 
all  this  and  far  more  than  is  promised.  It  will  also 
spread  above  and  below  ground  from  the  poor  strip 
of  earth  to  every  other  corner  of  garden  and  farm. 
This  it  has  done  till,  in  our  Eastern  states,  it  is  now 
classed  as  a  wild  flower.  It  will  never  look  wild, 
however,  meet  it  where  you  will.  It  is  as  domestic 
and  tame  as  a  barnyard  fowl,  which,  wandering  in 
the  wildest  woodland,  could  never  be  mistaken  as 
game.  The  garden  at  Claymont,  the  Virginia  home 
of  Mr.  Frank  R.  Stockton,  afforded  a  striking  ex- 
ample of  the  spreading  and  strangling  properties  of 
the  Morning-glory,  not  under  encouragement,  but 
simply  under  toleration.  Mr.  Stockton  tells  me  that 
the  entire  expanse  of  his  yards  and  garden,  when  he 
first  saw  them,  was  a  solid  mass  of  Morning-glory 
blooms.  Every  stick,  every  stem,  every  stalk,  every 
shrub  and  blade  of  grass,  every  vegetable  growth, 
whether  dead  or  alive,  had  its  encircling  and  over- 
whelming Morning-glory  companion,  set  full  of 
tiny  undersized  blossoms  of  varied  tints.  It  was  a 
beautiful  sight  at  break  of  day,  —  a  vast  expanse 


1 82  Old  Time  Gardens 

of  acres  jewelled    with    Morning-glories  —  but    it 
wasn't  the  new  owner's  notion  of  a  flower  garden. 

In  my  childhood  flower  agents  used  to  canvass 
country  towns  from  house  to  house.  Sometimes 
they  had  a  general  catalogue,  and  sold  many  plants, 
trees,  and  shrubs.  Oftener  they  had  but  a  single 
plant  which  they  were  "  booming."  I  suspect  that 
their  trade  came  through  the  sudden  introduction 
of  so  many  and  varied  flowers  and  shrubs  from 
China  and  Japan.  I  am  told  that  the  first  Chinese 
Wistarias  and  a  certain  Fringe  tree  were  sold  in  this 
manner ;  and  I  know  the  white  Hydrangea  was,  for 
I  recall  it,  though  I  do  not  know  that  this  was  its 
first  sale.  I  remember  too  that  suddenly  half  the 
houses  in  town,  on  piazza  or  trellis,  had  the  rich 
purple  blooms  of  the  Clematis  Jackmanni;  for  a  very 
persuasive  agent  had  gone  through  the  town  the 
previous  year.  Of  course  people  of  means  bought 
then,  as  now,  at  nurseries ;  but  at  many  humble 
homes,  whose  owners  would  never  have  thought  of 
buying  from  a  greenhouse,  he  sold  his  plants.  It 
gave  an  agreeable  rivalry,  when  all  started  plants 
together,  to  see  whose  flourished  best  and  had 
the  amplest  bloom.  Thoreau  recalled  the  pleasant 
emulation  of  many  owners  in  Concord  of  a  certain 
Rhododendron,  sold  thus  sweepingly  by  an  agent. 
The  purple  Clematis  displaced  an  old  climbing 
favorite,  the  Trumpet  Honeysuckle,  once  seen  by 
every  door.  It  was  so  beloved  of  humming-birds 
and  so  beautiful,  I  wonder  we  could  ever  destroy  it. 
Its  downfall  was  hastened  by  its  being  infested 
by  a  myriad  of  tiny  green  aphides,  which  proceeded 


Old  Flower  Favorites  183 

from  it  to  our  Roses.  I  recall  well  these  little  plant 
insects,  for  I  was  very  fond  of  picking  the  tubes  of 
the  Honeysuckle  for  the  drop  of  pure  honey  within, 
and  I  had  to  abandon  reluctantly  the  sweet  morsels. 

We  have  in  our  garden,  and  it  is  shown  on  the 
succeeding  page,  a  vine  which  we  carefully  cherished 
in  seedlings  from  year  to  year,  and  took  much  pride 
in.  It  came  to  us  with  the  Ambrosia  from  the 
Walpole  garden.  It  was  not  common  in  gardens 
in  our  neighborhood,  and  I  always  looked  upon  it 
as  something  very  choice,  and  even  rare,  as  it  cer- 
tainly was  something  very  dainty  and  pretty.  We 
called  it  Virgin's-bower.  When  I  went  out  into 
the  world  I  found  that  it  was  not  rare,  that  it  grew 
wild  from  Connecticut  to  the  far  West;  that  it  was 
Climbing  Fumitory,  or  Mountain  Fringe,  Adlumia. 
WThen  Mrs.  Margaret  Deland  asked  if  we  had 
Alleghany  Vine  in  our  garden,  I  told  her  I  had 
never  seen  it,  when  all  the  while  it  was  our  own 
dear  Virgin's-bower.  It  doesn't  seem  hardy  enough 
to  be  a  wild  thing ;  how  could  it  make  its  way  against 
the  fierce  vines  and  thorns  of  the  forest  when  it 
hasn't  a  bit  of  woodiness  in  its  stems  and  its  leaves 
and  flowers  are  so  tender  !  I  cannot  think  any  gar- 
den perfect  without  it,  no  matter  what  else  is  there, 
for  its  delicate  green  Rue-like  leaves  lie  so  gracefully 
on  stone  or  brick  walls,  or  on  fences,  and  it  trails  its 
slender  tendrils  so  lightly  over  dull  shrubs  that  are 
out  of  flower,  beautifying  them  afresh  with  an  alien 
bloom  of  delicate  little  pinkish  blossoms  like  tiny 
Bleeding-hearts. 

Another  old  favorite  was  the  Balloon-vine,  some- 


1 84 


Old  Time  Gardens 


<V,v,     ^ 


I 


Virgin's-bower. 


times    called    *•: 
Heart-pea,  with 
black      hearts, 
which    made%3g5_^;« 
stead    of    flat, 
compound    leaves,    and 
like  our  Virgin's-bower, 
what  it  covered ;  but  the 
had  a  leafage  too    heavy 
thick  screen  or  arch  quick- 
did  well  enough  in  gardens 


Heartseed      or 
its    seeds     like    fat 
with      three      lobes 
't  them     globose     in- 
This,too,had  pretty 
the    whole   vine, 
lay     lightly     on 
Dutchman's-pipe 
f".  /         save    to    make    a 
ly  and  solidly.    It 
which  had  not  had  a  long 


Old  Flower  favorites  185 

cultivated  past,  or  made  little  preparation  for  a  cher- 
ished future  ;  but  it  certainly  was  not  suited  to  our 
garden,  where  things  were  not  planted  for  a  day. 
These  three  are  native  vines  of  rich  woods  in  our 
Central  and  Western  states.  The  Matrimony-vine 
was  an  old  favorite  ;  one  from  the  porch  of  the  Van 
Cortlandt  manor-house,  over  a  hundred  years  old, 
is  shown  on  the  next  page.  Often  you  see  a  strag- 
gling, sprawling  growth  ;  but  this  one  is  as  fine  as 
any  vine  could  be. 

Patient  folk  —  as  were  certainly  those  of  the  old- 
time  gardens,  tried  to  keep  the  Rose  Acacia  as  a 
favorite.  It  was  hardy  enough,  but  so  hopelessly 
brittle  in  wood  that  it  was  constantly  broken  by  the 
wind  and  snow  of  our  Northern  winters,  even  though 
it  was  sheltered  under  some  stronger  shrub.  At  the 
end  of  a  lovely  Salem  garden,  I  beheld  this  June  a 
long  row  of  Rose  Acacias  in  full  bloom.  I  am  glad 
I  possess  in  my  memory  the  exquisite  harmony  of 
their  shimmering  green  foliage  and  rosy  flower  clus- 
ters. Miss  Jekyll,  ever  resourceful,  trains  the  Rose 
Acacia  on  a  wall ;  and  fastens  it  down  by  plant- 
ing sturdy  Crimson  Ramblers  by  its  side ;  her 
skilful  example  may  well  be  followed  in  America  and 
thus  restore  to  our  gardens  this  beautiful  flower. 

One  flower,  termed  old-fashioned  by  nearly  every 
one,  is  really  a  recent  settler  of  our  gardens.  A  pop- 
ular historical  novel  of  American  life  at  the  time  of 
the  Revolution  makes  the  hero  and  heroine  play  a 
very  pretty  love  scene  over  a  spray  of  the  Bleeding- 
heart,  the  Dielytra,  or  Dicentra.  Unfortunately  for 
the  truth  of  the  novelist's  picture,  the  Dielytra  was 


i86 


Old  Time  Gardens 


not  introduced  to  the  gardens  of  English-speaking 
folk  till  1846,  when  the  London  Horticultural  Soci- 
ety received  a  single  plant  from  the  north  of  China. 


Matrimony-vine  at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor. 

How  quickly  it  became  cheap  and  abundant;  soon  it 
bloomed  in  every  cottage  garden  ;  how  quickly  it 
became  beloved !  The  graceful  racemes  of  pendant 
rosy  flowers  were  eagerly  welcomed  by  children  ;  they 


Old  Flower  Favorites  187 

have  some  inexplicable,  witching  charm  ;  even  young 
children  in  arms  will  stretch  out  their  little  hands  and 
attempt  to  grasp  the  Dielytra,  when  showier  blossoms 
are  passed  unheeded.  Many  tiny  playthings  can  be 
formed  of  the  blossoms  :  only  deft  fingers  can  shape 
the  delicate  lyre  in  the  "  frame."  One  of  its  folk 
names  is  "  Lyre  flower";  the  two  wings  can  be  bent 
back  to  form  a  gondola. 

We  speak  of  modern  flowers,  meaning  those  which 
have  recently  found  their  way  to  our  gardens.  Some 
of  these  clash  with  the  older  occupants,  but  one  has 
promptly  been  given  an  honored  place,  and  appears 
so  allied  to  the  older  flowers  in  form  and  spirit  that 
it  seems  to  belong  by  their  side  —  the  Anemone  Ja- 
ponica.  Its  purity  and  beauty  make  it  one  of  the 
delights  of  the  autumn  garden;  our  grandmothers 
would  have  rejoiced  in  it,  and  have  divided  the 
plants  with  each  other  till  all  had  a  row  of  it  in  the 
garden  borders.  In  its  red  form  it  was  first  pictured 
in  the  Botanical  Magazine^  in  1847,  but  it  has  been 
commonly  seen  in  our  gardens  for  only  twenty  or 
thirty  years. 

These  two  flowers,  the  Dielytra  spectabilis  and 
Anemone  Japonica,  are  among  the  valuable  gifts 
which  our  gardens  received  through  the  visits 
to  China  of  that  adventurous  collector,  Robert 
Fortune.  He  went  there  first  in  1 842,  and  for  some 
years  constantly  sent  home  fresh  treasures.  Among 
the  best-known  garden  flowers  of  his  introducing 
are  the  two  named  above,  and  Kerria  Japonica, 
Forsytbia  viridissima,  Weigela  rosea,  Gardenia  For- 
tuniana.  Daphne  Fortunei^  Berberis  Fortunei,  Jasminum 


i88 


Old  Time  Gardens 


nudiflorum^  and  many  varieties  of  Prunus,  Vibur- 
num, Spiraea,  Azalea,  and  Chrysanthemum.  The 
fine  yellow  Rose  known  as  Fortune's  Yellow 
was  acquired  by  him  during  a  venturesome  trip 
which  he  took,  disguised  as  a  Chinaman.  The 
white  Chinese  Wistaria  is  regarded  as  the  most 
important  of  his  collections.  It  is  deemed  by  some 


White  Wistaria. 


flower-lovers  the  most  exquisite  flower  in  the  entire 
world.  The  Chinese  variety  is  distinguished  by  the 
length  of  its  racemes,  sometimes  three  feet  long. 
The  lower  part  of  a  vine  of  unusual  luxuriance  and 
beauty  is  shown  above  This  special  vine  flowers  in 
full  richness  of  bloom  every  alternate  year,  and  this 
photograph  was  taken  during  its  "poor  year"  ;  for  in 
its  finest  inflorescence  its  photograph  would  show 


Old  Flower  Favorites  189 

simply  a  mass  of  indistinguishable  whiteness.  Mr. 
Howell  has  named  it  The  Fountain,  and  above  the 
pouring  of  white  blossoms  shown  in  this  picture  is  an 
upper  cascade  of  bloom.  This  Wistaria  is  not  grow- 
ing in  an  over-favorable  locality,  for  winter  winds  are 
bleak  on  the  southern  shores  of  Long  Island  ;  but  I 
know  no  rival  of  its  beauty  in  far  warmer  and  more 
sheltered  sites. 

Many  of  the  Deutzias  and  Spiraeas  which  beau- 
tify our  spring  gardens  were  introduced  from  Japan 
before  Fortune's  day  by  Thunberg,  the  great  ex- 
ploiter of  Japanese  shrubs,  who  died  in  1828.  The 
Spiraea  Van  Houtteii  (facing  page  190)  is  perhaps  the 
most  beautiful  of  all.  Dean  Hole  names  the  Spiraeas, 
Deutzias,  Weigelas,  and  Forsythias  as  having  been 
brought  into  his  ken  in  English  gardens  within  his 
own  lifetime,  that  is  within  fourscore  years. 

In  New  England  gardens  the  Forsythia  is  called 
c  Sunshine  Bush'  — and  never  was  folk  name  better 
bestowed,  or  rather  evolved.  For  in  the  eager 
longing  for  spring  which  comes  in  the  bitterness 
of  March,  when  we  cry  out  with  the  poet,  "  O  God, 
for  one  clear  day,  a  Snowdrop  and  sweet  air,"  in  our 
welcome  to  fresh  life,  whether  shown  in  starting  leaf 
or  frail  blossom,  the  Forsythia  shines  out  a  grate- 
ful delight  to  the  eyes  and  heart,  concentrating  for 
a  week  all  the  golden  radiance  of  sunlight,  which 
later  will  be  shared  by  sister  shrubs  and  flowers. 
Forsythia  suspensa,  falling  in  long  sweeps  of  yellow 
bells,  is  in  some  favorable  places  a  cascade  of  liquid 
light.  No  shrub  in  our  gardens  is  more  frequently 
ruined  by  gardeners  than  these  Forsythias.  It  takes 


190  Old  Time  Gardens 

an  artist  to  prune  the  Forsythia  suspensa.  You  can 
steal  the  sunshine  for  your  homes  ere  winter  is  gone 
by  breaking  long  sprays  of  the  Sunshine  Bush  and 
placing  them  in  tall  deep  jars  of  water.  Split  up 
the  ends  of  the  stems  that  they  may  absorb  plen- 
tiful water,  and  the  golden  plumes  will  soon  open  to 
fullest  glory  within  doors. 

There  is  another  yellow  flowered  shrub,  the  Cor- 
chorus,  which  seems  as  old  as  the  Lilac,  for  it  is 
ever  found  in  old  gardens ;  but  it  proves  to  be  a 
Japanese  shrub  which  we  have  had  only  a  hundred 
years.  The  little,  deep  yellow,  globular  .blossoms 
appear  in  early  spring  and  sparsely  throughout  the 
whole  summer.  The  plant  isn't  very  adorning  in  its 
usual  ragged  growth,  but  it  was  universally  planted. 

It  may  be  seen  from  the  shrubs  of  popular 
growth  which  I  have  named  that  the  present  glory 
of  our  shrubberies  is  from  the  Japanese  and  Chinese 
shrubs,  which  came  to  us  in  the  nineteenth  century 
through  Thunberg,  Fortune,  and  other  bold  collec- 
tors. We  had  no  shrub-sellers  of  importance  in  the 
eighteenth  century ;  the  garden  lover  turned  wholly 
to  the  seedsman  and  bulb-grower  for  garden  sup- 
plies, just  as  we  do  to-day  to  fill  our  old-fashioned 
gardens.  The  new  shrubs  and  plants  from  China 
and  Japan  did  not  clash  with  the  old  garden  flowers, 
they  seemed  like  kinsfolk  who  had  long  been  sepa- 
rated and  rejoiced  in  being  reunited ;  they  were 
indeed  fellow-countrymen.  We  owed  scores  of  our 
older  flowers  to  the  Orient,  among  them  such 
important  ones  as  the  Lilac,  Rose,  Lily,  Tulip, 
Crown  Imperial. 


Old  Flower  Favorites  191 

We  can  fancy  how  delighted  all  these  Oriental 
shrubs  and  flowers  were  to  meet  after  so  many  years 
of  separation.  What  pleasant  greetings  all  the 
cousins  must  have  given  each  other  ;  I  am  sure  the 
Wistaria  was  glad  to  see  the  Lilac,  and  the  Fortune's 
Yellow  Rose  was  duly  respectful  to  his  old  cousin, 
the  thorny  yellow  Scotch  Rose.  And  I  seem  to 
hear  a  bit  of  scandal  passing  from  plant  to  plant ! 
Listen  !  it  is  the  Bleeding-heart  gossiping  with  the 
Japanese  Anemone  :  "  Well !  I  never  thought  that 
Lilac  girl  would  grow  to  be  such  a  beauty.  So 
much  color  !  Do  you  suppose  it  can  be  natural  ? 
Mrs.  Tulip  hinted  to  me  yesterday  that  the  girl  used 
fertilizers,  and  it  certainly  looks  so.  But  she  can't 
say  much  herself —  I  never  saw  such  a  change  in 
any  creatures  as  in  those  Tulips.  You  remember 
how  commonplace  their  clothes  were  ?  Now  such  ex- 
travagance !  Scores  of  gowns,  and  all  made  abroad, 
and  at  her  age  !  Here  are  you  and  I,  my  dear,  both 
young,  and  we  really  ought  to  have  more  clothes. 
I  haven't  a  thing  but  this  pink  gown  to  put  on. 
It's  lucky  you  had  a  white  gown,  for  no  one  liked 
your  pink  one.  Here  comes  Mrs.  Rose!  How 
those  Rose  children  have  grown  !  I  never  should 
have  known  them." 


CHAPTER   VIII 


COMFORT    ME    WITH     APPLES 

"  What  can  your  eye  desire  to  see,  your  eares  to  heare,  your 
mouth  to  taste,  or  your  nose  to  smell,  that  is  not  to  be  had  in  an 
Orchard  ?  with  Abundance  and  Variety  ?  What  shall  I  say  ? 
1000  of  Delights  are  in  an  Orchard  ;  and  sooner  shall  I  be  weary 
than  I  can  reckon  the  least  part  of  that  pleasure  which  one,  that 
hath  and  loves  an  Orchard,  may  find  therein." 

—  A  New  Orchard,  WILLIAM  LAWSON,  1618. 

N  every  old-time  garden,  save  the 
revered  front  yard,  the  borders 
stretched  into  the  domain  of  the 
Currant  and  Gooseberry  bushes, 
and  into  the  orchard.  Often  a  row 
of  Crabapple  trees  pressed  up  into 
the  garden's  precincts  and  shaded 
the  Sweet  Peas.  Orchard  and  garden  could  scarcely 
be  separated,  so  closely  did  they  grow  up  together. 
Every  old  garden  book  had  long  chapters  on 
orchards,  written  con  amore,  with  a  zest  sometimes 
lacking  on  other  pages.  How  they  loved  in  the 
days  of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  of  Queen  Anne  to  sit 
in  an  orchard,  planted,  as  Sir  Philip  Sidney  said, 
"cunningly  with  trees  of  taste-pleasing  fruits." 
How  charming  were  their  orchard  seats,  "  fachoned 
for  meditacon  ! "  Sometimes  these  orchard  seats 
were  banks  of  the  strongly  scented  Camomile,  a 
192 


Comfort  Me  with  Apples  193 

favorite  plant  of  Lord  Bacon's  day.     Wordsworth 
wrote  in  jingling  rhyme:  — 

"  Beneath  these  fruit-tree  boughs  that  shed 
Their  snow-white  blossoms  on  my  head, 
With  brightest  sunshine  round  me  spread 

Of  spring's  unclouded  weather, 
In  this  sequester' d  nook  how  sweet 
To  sit  upon  my  orchard  seat ; 
And  flowers  and  birds  once  more  to  greet, 
My  last  year's  friends  together." 

The  incomparable  beauty  of  the  Apple  tree  in 
full  bloom  has  ever  been  sung  by  the  poets,  but 
even  their  words  cannot  fitly  nor  fully  tell  the  delight 
to  the  senses  of  the  close  view  of  those  exquisite 
pink  and  white  domes,  with  their  lovely  opalescent 
tints,  their  ethereal  fragrance;  their  beauty  infinitely 
surpasses  that  of  the  vaunted  Cherry  plantations  of 
Japan.  In  the  hand  the  flowers  show  a  distinct 
ruddiness,  a  promise  of  future  red  cheeks ;  but  a 
long  vista  of  trees  in  bloom  displays  no  tint  of  pink, 
the  flowers  seem  purest  white.  Looking  last  May 
across  the  orchard  at  Hillside,  adown  the  valley  of 
the  Hudson  with  its  succession  of  blossoming 
orchards,  we  could  paraphrase  the  words  of  Long- 
fellow's Golden  Legend:  — 

"The  valley  stretching  below 

Is  white  with  blossoming  Apple  trees,  as  if  touched  with  lightest 
snow." 

In  the  darkest  night  flowering  Apple  trees  shine 
with  clear  radiance,  and  an  orchard  of  eight  hun- 
dred acres,  such  as  may  be  seen  in  Niagara  County, 
New  York,  shows  a  white  expanse  like  a  lake  of 


i94 


Old  Time  Gardens 


quicksilver.  This  county,  and  its  neighbor,  Orleans 
County,  form  an  Apple  paradise  —  with  their  or- 
chards of  fifty  and  even  a  hundred  thousand  trees. 


Apple  Trees  at  White  Hall,  the  Home  of   Bishop  Berkeley. 

The  largest  Apple  tree  in  New  England  is  in 
Cheshire,  Connecticut.  Its  trunk  measures,  one 
foot  above  all  root  enlargements,  thirteen  feet  eight 
inches  in  circumference. 

Its  age  is  traced  back  a  hundred  and  fifty  years. 


Comfort  Me  with  Apples  195 

At  White  Hall,  the  old  home  of  Bishop  Berkeley 
in  the  island  of  Rhode  Island,  still  stand  the  Apple 
trees  of  his  day.  A  picture  of  them  is  shown  on 
page  194. 

The  sedate  and  comfortable  motherliness  of  old 
Apple  trees  is  felt  by  all  Apple  lovers.  John  Bur- 
roughs speaks  of  "  maternal  old  Apple  trees,  regu- 
lar old  grandmothers,  who  have  seen  trouble." 
James  Lane  Allen,  amid  his  apostrophes  to  the 
Hemp  plant,  has  given  us  some  beautiful  glimpses 
of  Apple  trees  and  his  love  for  them.  He  tells  of 
"provident  old  tree  mothers  on  the  orchard  slope, 
whose  red-cheeked  children  are  autumn  Apples." 
It  is  this  motherliness,  this  domesticity,  this  home- 
liness that  makes  the  Apple  tree  so  cherished,  so 
beloved.  No  scene  of  life  in  the  country  ever  seems 
to  me  homelike  if  it  lacks  an  Apple  orchard  —  this 
doubtless,  because  in  my  birthplace  in  New  England 
they  form  a  part  of  every  farm  scene,  of  every  coun- 
try home.  Apple  trees  soften  and  humanize  the 
wildest  country  scene.  Even  in  a  remote,  pasture, 
or  on  a  mountain  side,  they  convey  a  sentiment  of 
home  ;  and  after  being  lost  in  the  mazes  of  close- 
grown  wood-roads  Apple  trees  are  inexpressibly 
welcome  as  giving  promise  of  a  sheltering  roof-tree. 
Thoreau  wrote  of  wild  Apples,  but  to  me  no  Apples 
ever  look  wild.  They  may  be  the  veriest  Crabs, 
growing  in  wild  spots,  unbidden,  and  savage  and 
bitter  in  their  tang,  but  even  these  seedling  Pippins 
are  domestic  in  aspect. 

On  the  southern  shores  of  Long  Island,  where 
meadow,  pasture,  and  farm  are  in  soil  and  crops 


.196  Old  Time  Gardens 

like  New  England,  the  frequent  absence  of  Apple 
orchards  makes  these  farm  scenes  unsatisfying,  not 
homelike.  No  other  fruit  trees  can  take  their  place. 
An  Orange  tree,  with  its  rich  glossy  foliage,  its 
perfumed  ivory  flowers  and  buds,  and  abundant 
golden  fruit,  is  an  exquisite  creation  of  nature ;  but 
an  Orange  grove  has  no  ideality.  All  fruit  trees 
have  a  beautiful  inflorescence  —  few  have  senti- 
ment. The  tint  of  a  blossoming  Peach  tree  is  per- 
fect ;  but  I  care  not  for  a  Peach  orchard.  Plantations 
of  healthy  Cherry  trees  are  lovely  in  flower  and  fruit 
time,  whether  in  Japan  or  Massachusetts,  and  a 
Cherry  tree  is  full  of  happy  child  memories  ;  but 
their  tree  forms  in  America  are  often  disfigured  with 
that  ugly  fungous  blight  which  is  all  the  more  dis- 
agreeable to  us  since  we  hear  now  of  its  close  kin- 
ship to  disease  germs  in  the  animal  world. 

I  cannot  see  how  they  avoid  having  Apple  trees 
on  these  Long  Island  farms,  for  the  Apple  is  fully 
determined  to  stand  beside  every  home  and  in  every 
garden  in  the  land.  It  does  not  have  to  be  invited ; 
it  will  plant  and  maintain  itself.  Nearly  all  fruits 
and  vegetables  which  we  prize,  depend  on  our  plant- 
ing and  care,  but  the  Apple  is  as  independent  as  the 
New  England  farmer.  In  truth  Apple  trees  would 
grow  on  these  farms  if  they  were  loved  or  even 
tolerated,  for  I  find  them  forced  into  Long  Island 
hedge-rows  as  relentlessly  as  are  forest  trees. 

The  Indians  called  the  Plantain  the  "white  man's 
foot,"  for  it  sprung  up  wherever  he  trod ;  the 
Apple  tree  might  be  called  the  white  man's  shadow. 
It  is  the  Vine  and  Fig  tree  of  the  temperate  zone, 


Comfort  Me  with  Apples  197 

and  might  be  chosen  as  the  totem  of  the  white  set- 
tlers. Our  love  for  the  Apple  is  natural,  for  it  was 
the  characteristic  fruit  of  Britain  ;  the  clergy  were 
its  chief  cultivators  ;  they  grew  Apples  in  their  mon- 
astery gardens,  prayed  for  them  in  special  religious 
ceremonies,  sheltered  the  fruit  by  laws,  and  even 


"The  valley  stretching  below 
Is  white  with  blossoming  Apple  trees,  as  if  touched  with  lightest  snow." 

named  the  Apple  when  pronouncing  the  blessings 
of  God  upon  their  princes  and  rulers. 

Thoreau  described  an  era  of  luxury  as  one  in 
which  men  cultivate  the  Apple  and  the  amenities  of 
the  garden.  He  thought  it  indicated  relaxed  nerves 
to  read  gardening  books,  and  he  regarded  garden- 
ing as  a  civil  and  social  function,  not  a  love  of 
nature.  He  tells  of  his  own  love  for  freedom  and 
savagery  —  and  he  found  what  he  so  deemed  at 


198 


Old  Time  Gardens 


Walden  Pond.  I  am  told  his  haunts  are  little 
changed  since  the  years  when  he  lived  there ;  and 
I  had  expected  to  find  Walden  Pond  a  scene  of 
much  wild  beauty,  but  it  was  the  mildest  of  wild 


Old  Hand-power  Cider  Mill. 


woods ;  it  seemed  to  me  as  thoroughly  civilized  and 
social  as  an  Apple  orchard. 

Thoreau  christened  the  Apple  trees  of  his  acquain- 
tance with  appropriate  names  in  the  lingua  vernacula: 
the  Truant's  Apple,  the  Saunterer's  Apple,  Decem- 


Comfort  Me  with  Apples  199 

her  Eating,  Wine  of  New  England,  the  Apple  of  the 
Dell  in  the  Wood,  the  Apple  of  the  Hollow  in  the 
Pasture,  th'e  Railroad  Apple,  the  Cellar-hole  Apple, 
the  Frozen-thawed,  and  many  more;  these  he  loved 
for  their  fruit ;  to  them  let  me  add  the  Playhouse 
Apple  trees,  loved  solely  for  their  ingeniously 
twisted  branches,  an  Apple  tree  of  the  garden, 
often  overhanging  the  flower  borders.  I  recall 
their  glorious  whiteness  in  the  spring,  but  I  cannot 
remember  that  they  bore  any  fruit  save  a  group  of 
serious  little  girls.  I  know  there  were  no  Apples 
on  the  Playhouse  Apple  trees  in  my  garden,  nor  on 
the  one  in  Nelly  Gilbert's  or  Ella  Partridge's  gar- 
den. There  is  no  play  place  for  girls  like  an  old 
Apple  tree.  The  main  limbs  leave  the  trunk  at  ex- 
actly the  right  height  for  children  to  reach,  and  every 
branch  and  twig  seems  to  grow  and  turn  only  to  form 
delightful  perches  for  children  to  climb  among  and 
cling  to.  Some  Apple  trees  in  our  town  had  a 
copy  of  an  Elizabethan  garden  furnishing;  their 
branches  enclosed  tree  platforms  about  twelve  feet 
from  the  ground,  reached  by  a  narrow  ladder  or 
flight  of  steps.  These  were  built  by  generous 
parents  for  their  children's  playhouses,  but  their 
approach  of  ladder  was  too  unhazardous,  their 
railings  too  safety-assuring,  to  prove  anything  but 
conventional  and  uninteresting.  The  natural  Apple 
tree  offered  infinite  variety,  and  a  slight  sense  of 
daring  to  the  climber.  Its  possibility  of  accident 
was  fulfilled ;  untold  number  of  broken  arms  and 
ribs — juvenile  —  were  resultant  from  falls  from 
Apple  trees. 


200 


Old  Time  Gardens 


One  of  Thoreau's  Apples  was  the  Green  Apple 
(Malus  viruttSj  or  Cholera  morbifera  puerelis  delec- 
tissima).  I  know  not  for  how  many  centuries  boys 
(and  girls  too)  have  eaten  and  suffered  from  green 
apples.  A  description  was  written  in  1684  which 


Pressing  out  Cider  in  Old  Hand  M 


might  have  happened  any  summer  since  ;  I  quote 
it  with  reminiscent  delight,  for  I  have  the  same 
love  for  the  spirited  relation  that  I  had  in  my  early 
youth  when  I  never,  for  a  moment,  in  spite  of  the 
significant  names,  .deemed  the  entire  book  any- 


Comfort  Me  with  Apples  201 

thing  but  a  real   story ;    the   notion   that  Pilgrim's 
Progress  was  an  allegory   never  entered   my  mind. 

"  Now  there  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  a  Garden. 
And  some  of  the  Fruit-Trees  that  grew  in  the  Garden  shot 
their  Branches  over  the  Wall,  and  being  mellow,  they  that 
found  them  did  gather  them  up  and  oft  eat  of  them  to  their 
hurt.  So  Christiana's  Boys,  as  Boys  are  apt  to  do,  being 
pleas'd  with  the  Trees  did  Plash  them  and  began  to  eat. 
Their  Mother  did  also  chide  them  for  so  doing,  but  still 
the  Boys  went  on.  Now  Matthew  the  Eldest  Son  of 
Christiana  fell  sick.  .  .  .  There  dwelt  not  far  from  thence 
one  Mr.  Skill  an  Antient  and  well  approved  Physician. 
So  Christiana  desired  it  and  they  sent  for  him  and  he  came. 
And  when  he  was  entered  the  Room  and  a  little  observed 
the  Boy  he  concluded  that  he  was  sick  of  the  Gripes.  Then 
he  said  to  his  Mother,  What  Diet  has  Matthew  of  late  fed 
upon  ?  Diet,  said  Christiana,  nothing  but  which  is  wholesome. 
The  Physician  answered,  This  Boy  has  been  tampering  with 
something  that  lies  in  his  Maw  undigested.  .  .  .  Then  said 
Samuel,  Mother ,  Mother,  what  was  that  which  my  brother  did 
gather  up  and  eat.  You  know  there  was  an  Orchard  and  my 
Brother  did  plash  and  eat.  True,  my  child,  said  Christiana, 
naughty  boy  as  he  was.  I  did  chide  him  and  yet  he  would  eat 
thereof." 

The  realistic  treatment  of  Mr.  Skill  and  Matthew's 
recovery  thereby  need  not  be  quoted. 

An  historic  Apple  much  esteemed  in  Connecticut 
and  Rhode  Island,  and  often  planted  at  the  edge  of 
the  flower  garden,  is  called  the  Sapson,  or  Early 
Sapson,  Sapson  Sweet,  Sapsyvine,  and  in  Pennsyl- 
vania, Wine-sap.  The  name  is  a  corruption  of  the 
old  English  Apple  name,  Sops-o'-wine.  It  is  a 


202  Old  Time  Gardens 

charming  little  red-cheeked  Apple  of  early  autumn, 
slightly  larger  than  a  healthy  Crab-apple.  The  clear 
red  of  its  skin  perfuses  in  coral-colored  veins  and 
beautiful  shadings  to  its  very  core.  It  has  a  con- 
densed, spicy,  aromatic  flavor,  not  sharp  like  a  Crab- 
apple,  but  it  makes  a  better  jelly  even  than  the 
Crab-apple — jelly  of  a  ruby  color  with  an  almost 
wine-like  flavor,  a  true  Sops-of-wine.  This  fruit  is 
deemed  so  choice  that  I  have  known  the  sale  of  a 
farm  to  halt  for  some  weeks  until  it  could  be 
proved  that  certain  Apple  trees  in  the  orchard  bore 
the  esteemed  Sapsyvines. 

Under  New  England  and  New  York  farm-houses 
was  a  cellar  filled  with  bins  for  vegetables  and 
apples.  As  the  winter  passed  on  there  rose  from 
these  cellars  a  curious,  earthy,  appley  smell,  which 
always  seemed  most  powerful  in  the  best  parlor, 
the  room  least  used.  How  Schiller,  who  loved 
the  scent  of  rotten'  apples,  would  have  rejoiced ! 
The  cellar  also  contained  many  barrels  of  cider ; 
for  the  beauty  of  the  Apple  trees,  and  the  use  of 
their  fruit  as  food,  were  not  the  only  factors  which 
influenced  the  planting  of  the  many  Apple  orchards 
of  the  new  world;  they  afforded  a  universal  drink 
—  cider.  I  have  written  at  length,  in  my  books, 
Home  Life  in  Colonial  Days  and  Stage-Coach  and 
Tavern  Days,  the  history  of  the  vogue  and  manu- 
facture of  cider  in  the  new  world.  The  cherished 
Apple  orchards  of  Endicott,  Blackstone,  Wolcott, 
and  Winthrop  were  so  speedily  multiplied  that  by 
1670  cider  was  plentiful  and  cheap  everywhere.  By 
the  opening  of  the  eighteenth  century  it  had  wholly 


Comfort  Me  with  Apples 


203 


crowded  out  beer  and  metheglin  ;  and  was  the  drink 
of  old  and  young  on  all  occasions. 

At  first,  cider  was  made  by  pounding  the  Apples 
by  hand  in  wooden  mortars;  then  simple  mills  were 
formed  of  a  hollowed  log  and  a  spring  board. 
Rude  hand  presses,  such  as  are  shown  on  pages  198 
and  200,  were  known  in  1660,  and  lingered  to  our 


Old  Horse-lever  Cider  Mill. 


own  day.  Kalm,  the  Swedish  naturalist,  saw  ancient 
horse  presses  (like  the  one  depicted  on  this  page)  in 
use  in  the  Hudson  River  Valley  in  1749.  In 
autumn  the  whole  country-side  was  scented  with 
the  sour,  fruity  smell  from  these  cider  mills  ;  and 
the  gift  of  a  draught  of  sweet  cider  to  any  passer-by 
was  as  ample  and  free  as  of  water  from  the  brook- 
side.  The  cider  when  barrelled  and  stored  for 
winter  was  equally  free  to  all  comers,  as  well  it 


204 


Old  Time  Gardens 


might  be,  when    many  families    stored    a    hundred 
barrels  for  winter  use. 

The  Washingtonian  or  Temperance  reform  which 
swept  over  this  country  like  a  purifying  wind  in  the 


"Straining  off"  the  Cider. 


first  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century,  found  many 
temporizers  who  tried  to  exclude  cider  from  the  list 
of  intoxicating  drinks  which  converts  pledged  them- 
selves to  abandon.  Some  farmers  who  adopted  this 
much-needed  movement  against  the  all-prevailing 


Comfort  Me  with  Apples  205 

vice  of  drunkenness  received  it  with  fanatic  zeal. 
It  makes  the  heart  of  the  Apple  lover  ache  to  read 
that  in  this  spirit  they  cut  down  whole  orchards  of 
flourishing  Apple  trees,  since  they  could  conceive 
no  adequate  use  for  their  apples  save  for  cider. 
That  any  should  have  tried  to  exclude  cider  from 
the  list  of  intoxicating  beverages  seems  barefaced 
indeed  to  those  who  have  tasted  that  most  potent  of 
all  spirits  —  frozen  cider.  I  once  drank  a  small 
modicum  of  Jericho  cider,  as  smooth  as  Benedictine 
and  more  persuasive,  which  made  a  raw  day  in  April 
seem  like  sunny  midsummer.  I  afterward  learned 
from  the  ingenuous  Long  Island  farmer  whose  hospi- 
tality gave  me  this  liqueur  that  it  had  been  frozen 
seven  times.  Each  time  he  had  thrust  a  red-hot 
poker  into  the  bung-hole  of  the  barrel,  melted  all  the 
watery  ice  and  poured  it  out ;  therefore  the  very 
essence  of  the  cider  was  all  that  remained. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  the  folk  customs  of  Old 
England  which  have  lingered  here,  such  as  domestic 
love  divinations.  The  poet  Gay  wrote  :  — 

"I  pare  this  Pippin  round  and  round  again, 
My  shepherd's  name  to  flourish  on  the  plain. 
I  fling  th'  unbroken  paring  o'er  my  head, 
Upon  the  grass  a  perfect  L.  is  read." 

I  have  seen  New  England  schoolgirls,  scores  of 
times,  thus  toss  an  "  unbroken  paring."  An  ancient 
trial  of  my  youth  was  done  with  Apple  seeds  ;  these 
were  named  for  various  swains,  then  slightly  wetted 
and  stuck  on  the  cheek  or  forehead,  while  we 
chanted  :  — 


206  Old  Time  Gardens 

"  Pippin  !   Pippin  !   Paradise  ! 

Tell  me  where  my  true  love  lies  ! " 

The  seed  that  remained  longest  in  place  indicated 
the  favored  and  favoring  lover. 

With  the  neglect  in  this  country  of  Saints'  Days 
and  the  Puritanical  frowning  down  of  all  folk  cus- 
toms connected  with  them,  we  lost  the  delightful  was- 
sailing of  the  Apple  trees.  This,  like  many  another 
religious  observance,  was  a  relic  of  heathen  sacri- 
fice, in  this  case  to  Pomona.  It  was  celebrated 
with  slight  variations  in  various  parts  of  England ; 
and  was  called  an  Apple  howling,  a  wassailing,  a 
youling,  and  other  terms.  The  farmer  and  his 
workmen  carried  to  the  orchard  great  jugs  of  cider 
or  milk  pans  filled  with  cider  and  roasted  apples. 
Encircling  in  turn  the  best  bearing  trees,  they  drank 
from  "clay  en-cups,"  and  poured  part  of  the  contents 
on  the  ground  under  the  trees.  And  while  they 
wassailed  the  trees  they  sang:  — 

"  Here's  to  thee,  old  Apple  tree  ! 

Whence  thou  mayst  bud,  and  whence  thou  mayst  blow, 
And  whence  thou  mayst  bear  Apples  enow! 

Hats  full!   caps  full, 

Bushel  —  Bushel  —  sacks  full, 

And  my  pockets  full  too." 

Another  Devonshire  rhyme  ran  :  — 

"  Health  to  thee,  good  Apple  tree  ! 
Well  to  bear  pocket-fulls,  hat-fulls, 
Peck-fulls,  bushel  bag-fulls." 

The  wassailing  of  the  trees  gave  place  in  America 
to  a  jovial  autumnal  gathering  known  as  an  Apple 


Comfort  Me  with  Apples  207 

cut,  an  Apple  paring,  or  an  Apple  bee.  The  cheer- 
ful kitchen  of  the  farm-house  was  set  out  with  its 
entire  array  of  empty  pans,  pails,  tubs,  and  baskets. 
Heaped-up  barrels  of  apples  stood  in  the  centre  of 
the  room.  The  many  skilful  hands  of  willing 
neighbors  emptied  the  barrels,  and  with  sharp  knives 
or  an  occasional  Apple  parer,  filled  the  empty 
vessels  with  cleanly  pared  and  quartered  apples. 

When  the  work  was  finished,  divinations  with 
Apple  parings  and  Apple  seeds  were  tried,  simple 
country  games  were  played;  occasionally  there  was 
a  fiddler  and  a  dance.  An  autumnal  supper  was 
served  from  the  three  zones  of  the  firm-house : 
nuts  from  the  attic,  Apples  from  the  pantry,  and 
cider  from  the  cellar.  The  apple-quarters  intended 
for  drying  were  strung  on  homespun  linen  thread 
and  hung  out  of  doors  on  clear  drying  days.  A 
humble  hillside  home  in  New  Hampshire  thus 
quaintly  festooned  is  shown  in  the  illustration  oppo- 
site page  208 — a  characteristic  New  Hampshire 
landscape.  When  thoroughly  dried  in  sun  and 
wind,  these  sliced  apples  were  stored  for  the  winter 
by  being  hung  from  rafter  to  rafter  of  various  living 
rooms,  and  remained  thus  for  months  (gathering 
vast  accumulations  of  dust  and  germs  for  our  bliss- 
fully ignorant  and  unsqueamish  grandparents)  until 
the  early  days  of  spring,  when  Apple  sauce,  Apple 
butter,  and  the  stores  of  Apple  bin  and  Apple  pit 
were  exhausted,  and  they  then  afforded,  after  proper 
baths  and  soakings,  the  wherewithal  for  that  domes- 
tic comestible  —  dried  Apple  pie.  The  Swedish 
parson,  Dr.  Acrelius,  writing  home  to  Sweden  in 


208  Old  Time  Gardens 

1758    an  account  of  the    settlement    of   Delaware, 
said  :  — 

"  Apple  pie  is  used  throughout  the  whole  year,  and  when 
fresh  Apples  are  no  longer  to  be  had,  dried  ones  are  used. 
It  is  the  evening  meal  of  children.  House  pie,  in  country 
places,  is  made  of  Apples  neither  peeled  nor  freed  from  their 
cores,  and  its  crust  is  not  broken  if  a  wagon  wheel  goes 
over  it." 

I  always  had  an  undue  estimation  of  Apple  pie 
in  my  childhood,  from  an  accidental  cause  :  we  were 
requested  by  the  conscientious  teacher  in  our  Sunday- 
school  to  "take  out"  each  week  without  fail  from 
the  "  Select  Library  "  of  the  school  a  "  Sabbath- 
school  Library  Book."  The  colorless,  albeit  pious, 
contents  of  the  books  classed  under  that  title 
are  well  known  to  those  of  my  generation  ;  even 
such  a  child  of  the  Puritans  as  I  was  could  not 
read  them.  There  were  two  anchors  in  that  sea  of 
despair,  —  but  feeble  holds  would  they  seem  to-day, 
—  the  first  volumes  of  ^ueechy  and  The  Wide^  Wide 
World.  With  the  disingenuousness  of  childhood  I 
satisfied  the  rules  of  the  school  and  my  own  con- 
science by  carrying  home  these  two  books,  and  no 
others,  on  alternate  Sundays  for  certainly  two  years. 
The  only  wonder  in  the  matter  was  that  the  trans- 
action escaped  my  Mother's  eye  for  so  long  a  time. 
I  read  only  isolated  scenes ;  of  these  the  favorite 
was  the  one  wherein  Fleda  carries  to  the  woods  for 
the  hungry  visitor,  who  was  of  the  English  nobility, 
several  large  and  toothsome  sections  of  green  Apple 
pie  and  cheese.  The  prominence  given  to  that  Ap- 


Comfort  Me  with  Apples  209 

pie  pie  in  that  book  and  in  my  two  years  of  reading 
idealized  it.  On  a  glorious  day  last  October  I  drove 
to  New  Canaan,  the  town  which  was  the  prototype 
of  Queechy.  Hungry  as  ever  in  childhood  from 
the  clear  autumnal  air  and  the  long  drive  from 
Lenox,  we  asked  for  luncheon  at  what  was  reported 
to  be  a  village  hostelry.  The  exact  counterpart 
of  Miss  Cynthia  Gall  responded  rather  sourly  that 
she  wasn't  "boarding  or  baiting"  that  year.  Hum- 
ble entreaties  for  provender  of  any  kind  elicited 
from  her  for  each  of  us  a  slice  of  cheese  and  a  large 
and  truly  noble  section  of  Apple  pie,  the  very  pie 
of  Fleda's  tale,  which  we  ate  with  a  bewildered  sense 
as  of  a  previous  existence.  This  was  intensified  as 
we  strolled  to  the  brook  under  the  Queechy  Sugar 
Maples,  and  gathered  there  the  great-grandchildren 
of  Fleda's  Watercresses,  and  heard  the  sound  of 
Hugh's  sawmills. 

Six  hundred  years  ago  English  gentlewomen  and 
goodwives  were  cooking  Apples  just  as  we  cook  them 
now  —  they  even  had  Apple  pie.  A  delightful  rec- 
ipe of  the  fourteenth  century  was  for  "  Appeluns  for 
a  Lorde,  in  opyntide."  Opyntide  was  springtime ; 
this  was,  therefore,  a  spring  dish  fit  for  a  lord. 

Apple-moy  and  Apple-mos,  Apple  Tansy,  and 
Pommys-morle  were  delightful  dishes  and  very  rich 
food  as  well.  The  word  pomatum  has  now  no  asso- 
ciation with  pomum,  but  originally  pomatum  was 
made  partly  of  Apples.  In  an  old  "  Dialog  between 
Soarness  and  Chirurgi,"  written  by  one  Dr.  Bulleyne 
in  the  days  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  is  found  this  ques- 
tion and  its  answer  :  — 


2io  Old  Time  Gardens 

"  Soarness.      How  make  you  pomatum  ? 

"  Chirurgi.  Take  the  fat  of  a  yearly  kyd  one  pound,  tem- 
per it  with  the  water  of  musk-roses  by  the  space  of  foure 
dayes,  then  take  five  apples,  and  dresse  them,  and  cut  them 
in  pieces,  and  lard  them  with  cloves,  then  boyl  them  alto- 
geather  in  the  same  water  cf  roses  in  one  vessel  of  glasse 
set  within  another  vessel,  let  it  boyl  on  the  fyre  so  long  tyll 
it  all  be  white,  then  wash  them  with  the  same  water  of 
muske-roses,  this  done  kepe  it  in  a  glasse  and  if  you  will 
have  it  to  smell  better,  then  you  must  put  in  a  little  civet 
or  musk,  or  both,  or  ambergrice.  Gentil  women  doe  use 
this  to  make  theyr  faces  fayr  and  smooth,  for  it  h?aleth 
cliftes  in  the  lippes,  or  in  any  places  of  the  hands  and 
face." 

With  the  omission  of  the  civet  or  musk  I  am 
sure  this  would  make  to-day  a  delightful  cream  ;  but 
there  is  one  condition  which  the  "  gentil  woman"  of 
to-day  could  scarcely  furnish  —  the  infinite  patience 
and  leisure  which  accompanied  and  perfected  all 
such  domestic  work  three  centuries  ago.  A  po- 
mander was  made  of  "  the  maste  of  a  sweet  Apple 
tree  being  gathered  betwixt  two  Lady  days,"  mixed 
with  various  sweet-scented  drugs  and  gums  and 
Rose  leaves,  and  shaped  into  a  ball  or  bracelet. 

The  successor  of  the  pomander  was  the  Clove 
Apple,  or  "  Comfort  Apple,"  an  Apple  stuck  solidly 
with  cloves.  In  country  communities,  one  was 
given  as  an  expression  of  sympathy  in  trouble  or 
sorrow.  Visiting  a  country  "poorhouse"  recently, 
we  were  shown  a  "  Comfort-apple  "  which  had  been 
sent  to  one  of  the  inmates  by  a  friend ;  for  even 
paupers  have  friends. 


Comfort  Me  with  Apples  211 

"Taffaty  tarts  "  were  of  paste  filled  with  Apples 
sweetened  and  seasoned  with  Lemon,  Rose-water, 
and  Fennel  seed.  Apple-sticklin',  Apple-stucklin, 
Apple-twelin,  Apple-hoglin,  are  old  English  pro- 
vincial names  of  Apple  pie;  Apple-betty  is  a  New 


Ancient  Apple  Picker,  Apple  Racks,  Apple  Parers,  Apple-butter  Ket- 
tle, Apple-butter  Paddle,  Apple-butter  Stirrer,  Apple-butter  Crocks. 

England  term.  The  Apple  Slump  of  New  England 
homes  was  not  the  "  slump-pye  "  of  old  England, 
which  was  a  rich  mutton  pie  flavored  with  wine  and 
jelly,  and  covered  with  a  rich  confection  of  nuts  and 
fruit. 

In  Pennsylvania,  among  the  people  known  as  the 
Pennsylvania  Dutch,  the  Apple  frolic  was  universal. 


212  Old  Time  Gardens 

Each  neighbor  brought  his  or  her  own  Apple  parer. 
This  people  make  great  use  of  Apples  and  cider  in 
their  food,  and  have  many  curious  modes  of  cook- 
ing them.  Dr.  Heilman  in  his  paper  on  "  The 
Old  Cider  Mill  "  tells  of  their  delicacy  of  "  cider 
time"  called  cider  soup,  made  of  equal  parts  of 
cider  and  water,  boiled  and  thickened  with  sweet 
cream  and  flour ;  when  ready  to  serve,  bits  of  bread 
or  toast  are  placed  in  it.  "  Mole  cider"  is  made 
of  boiling  cider  thickened  to  a  syrup  with  beaten 
eggs  and  milk.  But  of  greatest  importance,  both 
for  home  consumption  and  for  the  market,  is  the 
staple  known  as  Apple  butter.  This  is  made  from 
sweet  cider  boiled  down  to  about  one-third  its 
original  quantity.  To  this  is  added  an  equal  weight 
of  sliced  Apples,  about  a  third  as  much  of  molasses, 
and  various  spices,  such  as  cloves,  ginger,  mace, 
cinnamon  or  even  pepper,  all  boiled  together  for 
twelve  or  fifteen  hours.  Often  the  great  kettle 
is  filled  with  cider  in  the  morning,  and  boiled 
and  stirred  constantly  all  day,  then  the  sliced 
Apples  are  added  at  night,  and  the  monotonous 
stirring  continues  till  morning,  when  the  butter 
can  be  packed  in  jars  and  kegs  for  winter  use. 
This  Apple  butter  is  not  at  all  like  Apple  sauce  ; 
it  has  no  granulated  appearance,  but  is  smooth 
and  solid  like  cheese  and  dark  red  in  color. 
Apple  butter  is  stirred  by  a  pole  having  upon 
one  end  a  perforated  blade  or  paddle  set  at  right 
angles.  Sometimes  a  bar  was  laid  from  rim  to 
rim  of  the  caldron,  and  worked  by  a  crank  that 
turned  a  similar  paddle.  A  collection  of  ancient 


Comfort  Me  with  Apples  213 

utensils  used  in  making  Apple  butter  is  shown  on 
page  21 1 ;  these  are  from  the  collections  of  the 
Bucks  County  Historical  Society.  Opposite  page 
214  is  shown  an  ancient  open-air  fireplace  and  an 
old  couple  making  Apple  butter  just  as  they  have 
done  for  over  half  a  century. 

In  New  England  what  the  "  hired  man  "  on  the 
farm  called  "  biled  cider  Apple  sass,"  took  the  place 
of  Apple  butter.  Preferably  this  was  made  in  the 
"summer  kitchen,"  where  three  kettles,  usually  of 
graduated  sizes,  could  be  set  over  the  fire ;  the 
three  kettles  could  be  hung  from  a  crane,  or 
trammels.  All  were  filled  with  cider,  and  as  the 
liquid  boiled  away  in  the  largest  kettle  it  was  filled 
from  the  second  and  that  from  the  third.  The 
fresh  cider  was  always  poured  into  the  third  kettle, 
thus  the  large  kettle  was  never  checked  in  its  boil- 
ing. This  continued  till  the  cider  was  as  thick  as 
molasses.  Apples  (preferably  Pound  Sweets  or 
Pumpkin  Sweets)  had  been  chosen  with  care,  pared, 
cored,  and  quartered,  and  heated  in  a  small  kettle. 
These  were  slowly  added  to  the  thickened  cider,  in 
small  quantities,  in  order  not  to  check  the  boiling. 
The  rule  was  to  cook  them  till  so  softened  that  a 
rye  straw  could  be  run  into  them,  and  yet  they 
must  retain  their  shape.  This  was  truly  a  critical 
time;  the  slightest  scorched  flavor  would  ruin  the 
whole  kettleful.  A  great  wooden,  long-handled, 
shovel-like  ladle  was  used  to  stir  the  sauce  fiercely 
until  it  was  finished  in  triumph.  Often  a  barrel  of 
this  was  made  by  our  grandmothers,  and  frozen 
solid  for  winter  use.  The  farmer  and  "hired  men  " 


214  Old  Time  Gardens 

ate  it  clear  as  a  relish  with  meats ;  and  it  was  suited 
to  appetites  and  digestions  which  had  been  formed 
by  a  diet  of  salted  meats,  fried  breads,  many  pickles, 
and  the  drinking  of  hot  cider  sprinkled  with  pepper. 
Emerson  well  named  the  Apple  the  social  fruit 
of  New  England.  It  ever  has  been  and  is  still  the 
grateful  promoter  and  unfailing  aid  to  informal 
social  intercourse  in  the  country-side ;  but  the 
Apple  tree  is  something  far  nobler  even  than  being 
the  sign  of  cheerful  and  cordial  acquaintance ;  it  is 
the  beautiful  rural  emblem  of  industrious  and  tem- 
perate home  life.  Hence,  let  us  wassail  with  a 
will:  — 

"  Here's  to  thee,  old  Apple  tree  ! 

Whence  thou  mayst  bud,  and  whence  thou  mayst  blow, 
And  whence  thou  mayst  bear  Apples  enow  !" 


Making  Apple  Butter. 


CHAPTER    IX 


GARDENS    OF    THE    POETS 


"The  chief  use  of  flowers  is  to  illustrate  quotations  from  the 
poets." 


LL  English  poets  have  ever  been 
ready  to  sing  English  flowers 
until  jesters  have  laughed,  and 
to  sing  garden  flowers  as  well  as 
wild  flowers.  Few  have  really 
described  a  garden,  though  the 
orderly  distribution  of  flowers 
might  be  held  to  be  akin  to 
the  restraint  of  rhyme  and  rhythm  in  poetry. 

It  has  been  the  affectionate  tribute  and  happy 
diversion  of  those  who  love  both  poetry  and  flowers 
to  note  the  flowers  beloved  of  various  poets,  and 
gather  them  together,  either  in  a  book  or  a  gar- 
den. The  pages  of  Milton  cannot  be  forced,  even 
by  his  most  ardent  admirers,  to  indicate  any  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  flowers.  He  certainly  makes 
some  very  elegant  classical  allusions  to  flowers  and 
fruits,  and  some  amusingly  vague  ones  as  well. 
"  The  Flowers  of  Spenser,"  and  "  A  Posy  from 
Chaucer,"  are  the  titles  of  most  readable  chapters 
in  A  Garden  of  Simples ,  but  the  allusions  and 
quotations  from  both  authors  are  pleasing  and 
215 


2l6 


Old  Time  Gardens 


interesting,  rather  than  informing  as  to  the  real 
variety  and  description  of  the  flowers  of  their  day. 
Nearly  all  the  older  English  poets,  though  writing 
glibly  of  woods  and  vales,  of  shepherds  and  swains, 
of  buds  and  blossoms,  scarcely  allude  to  a  flower  in  a 
natural  way.  Herrick  was  truly  a  flower  lover,  and, 
as  the  critic  said,  "many  flowers  grow  to  illustrate 


Shakespeare  Border  at  Hillside. 

quotations  from  his  works."  The  flowers  named 
of  Shakespeare  have  been  written  about  in  varied 
books,  Shakespeare's  Garden,  Shakespeare's  Bouquet, 
Flowers  from  Stratford-on-Avon,  etc.  These  are 
easily  led  in  fulness  of  detail,  exactness  of  informa- 
tion, and  delightful  literary  quality  by  that  truly 
perfect  book,  beloved  of  all  garden  lovers,  The  Plant 
Lore  and  Garden  Craft  of  Shakespeare,  by  Canon  Ella- 


Gardens  of  the  Poets  .      217 

combe.  Of  it  I  never  weary,  and  for  it  I  am  ever 
grateful. 

Shakespeare  Gardens,  or  Shakespeare  Borders, 
too,  are  laid  out  and  set  with  every  tree,  shrub,  and 
flower  named  in  Shakespeare,  and  these  are  over 
two  hundred  in  number.  A  distinguishing  mark 
of  the  Shakespeare  Border  of  Lady  Warwick  is  the 
peculiar  label  set  alongside  each  plant.  This  label 
is  of  pottery,  greenish-brown  in  tint,  shaped  like  a 
butterfly,  bearing  on  its  wings  a  quotation  of  a  few 
words  and  the  play  reference  relating  to  each  special 
plant.  Of  course  these  words  have  been  fired  in 
and  are  thus  permanent.  Pretty  as  they  are  in 
themselves  they  must  be  disfiguring  to  the  borders 
—  as  all  labels  are  in  a  garden. 

In  the  garden  at  Hillside,  near  Albany,  New 
York,  grows  a  green  and  flourishing  Shakespeare 
Border,  gathered  ten  years  ago  by  the  mistress  of 
the  garden.  I  use  the  terms  green  and  flourishing 
with  exactness  in  this  connection,  for  a  great  impres- 
sion made  by  this  border  is  of  its  thriving  health, 
and  also  of  the  predominance  of  green  leafage  of 
every  variety,  shape,  manner  of  growth,  and  oddness 
of  tint.  In  this  latter  respect  it  is  infinitely  more 
beautiful  than  the  ordinary  border,  varying  from 
silvery  glaucous  green  through  greens  of  yellow 
or  brownish  shade  to  the  blue-black  greens  of  some 
herbs  ;  and  among  these  green  leaves  are  many  of 
sweet  or  pungent  scent,  and  of  medicinal  qualities, 
such  as  are  seldom  grown  to-day  save  in  some  such 
choice  and  chosen  spot.  There  is  less  bloom  in 
this  Shakespeare  Border  than  in  our  modern  flower 


2i 8       .  Old  Time  Gardens 

beds,  and  the  flowers  are  not  so  large  or  brilliant  as 
our  modern  favorites ;  but,  quiet  as  they  are,  they 
are  said  to  excel  the  blossoms  of  the  same  plants  of 
Shakespeare's  own  day,  which  we  learn  from  the  old 
herbalists  were  smaller  and  less  varied  in  color  and 
of  simpler  tints  than  those  of  their  descendants. 
At  the  first  glance  this  Shakespeare  Border  shines 
chiefly  in  the  light  of  the  imagination,  as  stirred  by 
the  poet's  noble  words  ;  but  do  not  dwell  on  this 
border  as  a  whole,  as  something  only  to  be  looked 
at ;  read  the  pages  of  this  garden,  dwell  on  each 
leafy  sentence,  and  you  are  entranced  with  its  beau- 
tiful significance.  It  was  not  gathered  with  so  much 
thought,  and  each  plant  and  seed  set  out  and  watched 
and  reared  like  a  delicate  child,  to  become  a  show 
place ;  it  appeals  for  a  more  intimate  regard ;  and 
we  find  that  its  detail  makes  its  charm. 

Such  a  garden  as  this  appeals  warmly  to  any- 
one who  is  sensitive  to  the  imaginative  element  of 
flower  beauty.  Many  garden  makers  forget  that  a 
flower  bed  is  a  group  of  living  beings  —  perhaps  of 
sentient  beings  —  as  well  as  a  mass  of  beautiful  color. 
Modern  gardens  tend  far  too  much  toward  the  dis- 
play of  the  united  effect  of  growing  plants,  to  a 
striving  for  universal  brilliancy,  rather  than  atten- 
tion to  and  love  for  separate  flowers.  There  was 
refreshment  of  spirit  as  well  as  of  the  senses  in  the 
old-time  garden  of  flowers,  such  as  these  planted  in 
this  Shakespeare  Border,  and  it  stirred  the  heart  of 
the  poet  as  could  no  modern  flower  gardens. 

The  scattering  inflorescence  and  the  tiny  size  of 
the  blossoms  give  to  this  Shakespeare  Border  an 


Gardens  of  the  Poets  219 

unusual  aspect  of  demureness  and  delicacy,  and  the 
plants  seem  to  cling  with  affection  and  trust  to  the 
path  of  their  human  protector;  they  look  simple 
and  confiding,  and  seem  close  both  to  nature  and  to 
man.  This  homelike  and  modest  quality  is  shown, 
I  think,  even  in  the  presentation  in  black  and  white 
given  on  page  216  and  opposite  page,  218,  though 
it  shows  still  more  in  the  garden  when  the  wide 
range  of  tint  of  foliage  is  added. 

A  most  appropriate  companion  of  the  old  flowers 
in  this  Shakespeare  Border  is  the  sun-dial,  which  is 
an  exact  copy  of  the  one  at  Abbotsford,  Scotland. 
It  bears  the  motto  'EPXETAI  TAP  NTH  meaning, 
"  For  the  night  cometh."  It  was  chosen  by  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  for  his  sun-dial,  as  a  solemn  monitor 
to  himself  of  the  hour  "  when  no  man  can  work." 
It  was  copied  from  a  motto  on  the  dial-plate  of 
the  watch  of  the  great  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  ;  and 
it  is  curious  that  in  both  cases  the  word  TAP 
should  be  introduced,  for  it  is  not  in  the  clause  in 
the  New  Testament  from  which  the  motto  was  taken. 
It  is  a  beautiful  motto  and  one  of  singular  appro- 
priateness for  a  sun-dial.  The  pedestal  of  this 
sun-dial  is  of  simple  lines,  but  it  is  dignified  and 
pleasing,  aside  from  the  great  interest  of  association 
which  surrounds  it. 

I  had  a  happy  sense,  when  walking  through  this 
garden,  that,  besides  my  congenial  living  companion- 
ship, I  had  the  company  of  some  noble  Elizabethan 
ghosts  ;  and  I  know  that  if  Shakespeare  and  Jonson 
and  Herrick  were  to  come  to  Hillside,  they  would 
find  the  garden  so  familiar  to  them ;  they  would 


22O 


Old  Time  Gardens 


The  Beauty  of  Winter  Lilacs. 

greet  the  plants  like  old  friends,  they  would  note 
how  fine  grew  the  Rosemary  this  year,  how  sweet 
were  the  Lady's-smocks,  how  fair  the  Gillyflowers. 
And  Gerarde  and  Parkinson  would  ponder,  too, 
over  all  the  herbs  and  simples  of  their  own  Physick 
Gardens,  and  compare  notes.  Above  all  I  seemed 
to  see,  walking  soberly  by  my  side,  breathing  in  with 
delight  the  varied  scents  of  leaf  and  blossom,  that 
lover  and  writer  of  flowers  and  gardens,  Lord 


Gardens  of  the  Poets  221 

Bacon  —  and  not  in  the  disguise  of  Shakespeare 
either.  For  no  stronger  proofs  can  be  found  of  the 
existence  of  two  individualities  than  are  in  the  works 
of  each  of  these  men,  in  their  sentences  and  pages 
which  relate  to  gardens  and  flowers. 

This  fair  garden  and  Shakespeare  Border  are 
loveliest  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  in  the  dawn  or 
at  early  eve  ;  and  those  who  muse  may  then  remem- 
ber another  Presence  in  a  garden  in  the  cool  of  the 
day.  And  then  I  recall  that  gem  of  English  poesy 
which  always  makes  me  pitiful  of  its  author  ;  that  he 
could  write  this,  and  yet,  in  his  hundreds  of  pages  of 
English  verse,  make  not  another  memorable  line  :  — 

"  A  Garden  is  a  lovesome  thing,  God  wot ; 

Rose  plot, 
Fringed  pool, 

Ferned  grot, 

The  veriest  school  of  Peace  ; 
And  yet  the  fool 

Contends  that  God  is  not  in  gardens. 
Not  in  gardens  !      When  the  eve  is  cool  ! 

Nay,  but  I  have  a  sign. 
'Tis  very  sure  God  walks  in  mine." 

Shakespeare  Borders  grow  very  readily  and  freely 
in  England,  save  in  the  case  of  the  few  tropical  flowers 
and  trees  named  in  the  pages  of  the  great  dramatist ; 
but  this  Shakespeare  Border  at  Hillside  needs  much 
cherishing.  The  plants  of  Heather  and  Broom  and 
Gorse  have  to  be  specially  coddled  by  transplanting 
under  cold  frames  during  the  long  winter  months  in 
frozen  Albany  ;  and  thus  they  find  vast  contrast  to 
their  free,  unsheltered  life  in  Great  Britain. 


222 


Old  Time  Gardens 


Persistent  efforts  have  been  made  to  acclimate 
both  Heather  and  Gorse  in  America.  We  have  seen 
how  Broom  came  uninvited  and  spread  unasked  on 
the  Massachusetts  coast ;  but  Gorse  and  Heather 
have  proved  shy  creatures.  On  the  beautiful  island 
of  Naushon  the  carefully  planted  Gorse  may  be 
found  spread  in  widely  scattered  spots  and  also  on 
the  near-by  mainland,  but  it  cannot  be  said  to  have 


Garden  of  Mrs.  Frank  Robinson,  Wakefield,  Rhode  Island. 

thrived  markedly.  The  Scotch  Heather,  too,  has 
been  frequently  planted,  and  watched  and  pushed, 
but  it  is  slow  to  become  acclimated.  It  is  not  be- 
cause the  winters  are  too  cold,  for  it  is  found  in 
considerable  amount  in  bitter  Newfoundland ;  per- 
haps it  prefers  to  live  under  a  crown. 

Modern  authors  have  seldom  given  their  names 
to  gardens,  not  even  Tennyson  with  his  intimate 
and  extended  knowledge  of  garden  flowers.  A 


Gardens  of  the  Poets  223 

Mary  Howitt  Garden  was  planned,  full  of  homely 
old  blooms,  such  as  she  loves  to  name  in  her  verse ; 
but  it  would  have  slight  significance  save  to  its 
maker,  since  no  one  cares  to  read  Mary  Howitt 
nowadays.  In  that  charming  book,  Syhanas 
Letters  to  an  Unknown  Friend  (which  I  know  were 
written  to  me),  the  author,  E.  V.  B.,  says,  "  The 
very  ideal  of  a  garden,  and  the  only  one  I  know, 
is  found  in  Shelley's  Sensitive  Plant."  With  quick 
championing  of  a  beloved  poet,  I  at  once  thought 
of  the  radiant  garden  of  flowers  in  Keats's  heart 
and  poems.  Then  I  reread  the  Sensitive  Plant  in 
a  spirit  of  utmost  fairness  and  critical  friendliness, 
and  I  am  willing  to  yield  the  Shelley  Garden  to 
Sylvana,  while  I  keep,  for  my  own  delight,  my 
Keats  garden  of  sunshine,  color,  and  warmth. 

That  Keats  had  a  profound  knowledge  and  love 
of  flowers  is  shown  in  his  letters  as  well  as  his 
poems.  Only  a  few  months  before  his  death,  when 
stricken  with  and  fighting  a  fatal  disease,  he 
wrote  :  — 

"  How  astonishingly  does  the  chance  of  leaving  the 
world  impress  a  sense  of  its  natural  beauties  upon  me  ! 
Like  poor  FalstafF,  though  I  do  not  babble,  I  think  of 
green  fields.  I  muse  with  greatest  affection  on  every 
flower  I  have  known  from  my  infancy  —  their  shapes  and 
colors  are  as  new  to  me  as  if  I  had  just  created  them  with 
a  superhuman  fancy.  It  is  because  they  are  connected 
with  the  most  thoughtless  and  the  happiest  moments  of  my 
life." 


224  Old  Time  Gardens 

Near  the  close  of  his  Endymion  he  wrote  :  — 

"  Nor  much  it  grieves 

To  die,  when  summer  dies  on  the  cold  sward. 
Why,  I  have  been  a  butterfly,  a  lord 
Of  flowers,  garlands,  love-knots,  silly  posies, 
Groves,  meadows,  melodies,  and  arbor  roses  ; 
My  kingdom's  at  its  death,  and  just  it  is 
That  I  should  die  with  it." 

In  the  summer  of  1816,  under  the  influence  of  a 
happy  day  at  Hampstead,  he  wrote  that  lovely  poem, 
"  I  stood  tiptoe  upon  a  little  hill."  After  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  general  scene,  a  special  corner  of  beauty 
is  thus  told  :  — 

"  A  bush  of  May  flowers  with  the  bees  about  them  — 
Ah,  sure  no  tasteful  nook  could  be  without  them  — 
And  let  a  lush  Laburnum  oversweep  them, 
And  let  long  grass  grow  round  the  roots  to  keep  them 
Moist,  cool,  and  green  ;   and  shade  the  Violets 
That  they  may  bind  the  moss  in  leafy  nets. 
A  Filbert  hedge  with  Wild-brier  over  twin'd, 
And  clumps  of  Woodbine  taking  the  soft  wind, 
Upon  their  summer  thrones.    ..." 

Then  come  these  wonderful  lines,  which  belittle 
all  other  descriptions  of  Sweet  Peas  :  — 

"  Here  are  Sweet  Peas,  on  tiptoe  for  a  flight, 
With  wings  of  gentle  flush  o'er  delicate  white, 
And  taper  fingers  catching  at  all  things 
To  bind  them  all  about  with  tiny  wings." 

Keats  states  in  his  letters  that  his  love  of  flowers 
was  wholly  for  those  of  the  "  common  garden  sort," 


Gardens  of  the  Poets 


225 


not  for  flowers  of  the  greenhouse  or  difficult  culti- 
vation,  nor    do    I    find   in    his    lines   any   evidence 


The  Parson's  Walk. 


of  extended  familiarity  with  English  wild  flowers. 
He  certainly  does  not  know  the  flowers  of  woods 
and  fields  as  does  Matthew  Arnold. 


226  Old  Time  Gardens 

The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table  says  :  "  Did 
you  ever  hear  a  poet  who  did  not  talk  flowers  ? 
Don't  you  think  a  poem  which  for  the  sake  of 
being  original  should  leave  them  out,  would  be  like 
those  verses  where  the  letter  a  or  £,  or  some  other, 
is  omitted  ?  No  ;  they  will  bloom  over  and  over 
again  in  poems  as  in  the  summer  fields,  to  the  end 
of  time,  always  old  and  always  new."  The  Auto- 
crat himself  knew  well  a  poet  who  never  talked 
flowers  in  his  poems,  a  poet  beloved  of  all  other 
poets,  —  Arthur  Hugh  Clough,  —  though  he  loved 
and  knew  all  flowers.  From  Matthew  Arnold's 
beautiful  tribute  to  him,  are  a  few  of  his  wonderful 
flower  lines,  cut  out  from  their  fellows  :  — 

"Through  the  thick  Corn  the  scarlet  Poppies  peep, 
And  round  green  roots  and  yellowing  stalks  I  see 

Pale  blue  Convolvulus  in  tendrils  creep, 
And  air-swept  Lindens  yield 

Their  scent,  and  rustle  down  their  perfumed  showers 

Of  bloom.    .   .   , 


"Soon  will  the  high  midsummer  pomps  come  on, 

Soon  will  the  Musk  Carnations  break  and  swell. 
Soon  shall  we  have  gold-dusted  Snapdragon, 
Sweet-william  with  his  homely  cottage  smell, 
And  Stocks  in  fragrant  blow." 

Oh,  what  a  master  hand  !  Where  in  all  English 
verse  are  fairer  flower  hues  ?  And  where  is  a  more 
beautiful  description  of  a  midsummer  evening,  than 
Arnold's  exquisite  lines  beginning  :  — 

"  The  evening  comes  ;  the  fields  are  still  ; 
The  tinkle  of  the  thirsty  rill." 


Gardens  of  the  Poets  227 

Dr.  Holmes  was  also  a  master  in  the  description 
of  garden  flowers.  I  should  know,  had  I  never 
been  told  save  from  his  verses,  just  the  kind  of  a 
Cambridge  garden  he  was  reared  in,  and  what 
flowers  grew  in  it.  Lowell,  too,  gives  ample  evi- 
dence of  a  New  England  childhood  in  a  garden. 

The  gardens  of  Shenstone's  Schoolmistress  and 
of  Thomson's  poems  come  to  our  minds  without 
great  warmth  of  welcome  from  us ;  while  Clare's 
lines  are  full  of  charm  :  — 

"And  where  the  Marjoram  once,  and  Sage  and  Rue, 
And  Balm,  and  Mint,  with  curl'd  leaf  Parsley  grew, 
And  double  Marigolds,  and  silver  Thyme, 
And  Pumpkins  'neath  the  window  climb. 
And  where  I  often,  when  a  child,  for  hours 
Tried  through  the  pales  to  get  the  tempting  flowers, 
As  Lady's  Laces,  everlasting  Peas, 
True-love-lies-bleeding,  with  the  Hearts-at-ease 
And  Goldenrods,  and  Tansy  running  high, 
That  o'er  the  pale  tops  smiled  on  passers  by." 

A  curious  old  seventeenth-century  poet  was  the 
Jesuit,  Rene  Rapin.  The  copy  of  his  poem  en- 
titled Gardens  which  I  have  seen,  is  the  one  in  my 
daughter's  collection  of  garden  books;  it  was  "  Eng- 
lish'd  by  the  Ingenious  Mr.  Gardiner,"  and  pub- 
lished in  1728.  Hallam  in  his  Introduction  to  the 
Literature  of  Europe  gives  a  capital  estimate  of  this 
long  poem  of  over  three  thousand  lines.  I  find 
them  pretty  dull  reading,  with  much  monotony  of 
adjectives,  and  very  affected  notions  for  plant  names. 
I  fancy  he  manufactured  all  his  tedious  plant  tradi- 
tions himself. 


228 


Old  Time  Gardens 


A  pleasing  little  book  entitled  Dante's  Garden 
has  collected  evidence,  from  his  writings,  of  Dante's 
love  of  green,  growing  things.  The  title  is  rather 
strained,  since  he  rarely  names  individual  flowers, 
and  only  refers  vaguely  to  their  emblematic  signifi- 
cance. I  would  have  entitled  the  book  Dante 's  Forest, 
since  he  chiefly  refers  to  trees  ;  and  the  Italian  gar- 
dens of  h i  r, 
days  were  of 
trees  rather 
than  flowers. 
There  are  pas- 
sages in  his 
writings  which 
have  led  some 
of  his  worship- 
pers to  believe 
that  his  child- 
hood waspassed 
in  a  garden  ; 
but  these  refer- 
ences are  very 
indeterminate. 


Garden  of  Mary  Washington. 


The  picture 
of  a  deserted 
garden,  with  its  sad  sentiment  has  charmed  the  fancy 
of  many  a  poet.  Hood,  a  true  flower-lover,  wrote 
this  jingle  in  his  Haunted  House:  — 

"The  Marigold  amidst  the  nettles  blew, 

The  Gourd  embrac'd  the  Rose  bush  in  its  ramble. 
The  Thistle  and  the  Stock  together  grew, 
The  Hollyhock  and  Bramble. 


Gardens  of  the  Poets  229 

"  The  Bearbine  with  the  Lilac  interlaced, 

The  sturdy  Burdock  choked  its  tender  neighbor, 
The  spicy  Pink.      All  tokens  were  effaced 
Of  human  care  and  labor." 

These  lines  are  a  great  contrast  to  the  dignified 
versification  of  The  Old  Garden,  by  Margaret  De- 
land,  a  garden  around  which  a  great  city  has  grown. 

"Around  it  is  the  street,  a  restless  arm 

That  clasps  the  country  to  the  city's  heart." 

No  one  could  read  this  poem  without  knowing  that 
the  author  is  a  true  garden  lover,  and  knowing  as 
well  that  she  spent  her  childhood  in  a  garden. 

Another  American  poet,  Edith  Thomas,  writes 
exquisitely  of  old  gardens  and  garden  flowers. 

"The  pensile  Lilacs  still  their  favors  throw. 
The  Star  of  Lilies,  plenteous  long  ago, 
Waits  on  the  summer  dusk,  and  faileth  not. 
The  legions  of  the  grass  in  vain  would  blot 
The  spicy  Box  that  marks  the  garden  row. 
Let  but  the  ground  some  human  tendance  know, 
It  long  remaineth  an  engentled  spot." 

Let  me  for  a  moment,  through  the  suggestion  of 
her  last  two  lines,  write  of  the  impress  left  on  nature 
through  flower  planting.  "  The  garden  long  re- 
maineth an  engentled  spot."  You  cannot  for  years 
stamp  out  the  mark  of  a  garden ;  intentional  destruc- 
tion may  obliterate  the  garden  borders,  but  neglect 
never.  The  delicate  flowers  die,  but  some  sturdy 
things  spring  up  happily  and  seem  gifted  with  ever- 
lasting life.  Fifteen  years  ago  a  friend  bought  an 
old  country  seat  on  Long  Island ;  near  the  site  of 


230  Old  Time  Gardens 

the  new  house,  an  old  garden  was  ploughed  deep  and 
levelled  to  a  lawn.  Every  year  since  then  the  patient 
gardeners  pull  up,  on  this  lawn,  in  considerable 
numbers,  Mallows,  Campanulas,  Star  of  Bethlehem, 
Bouncing-bets  and  innumerable  Asparagus  shoots, 
and  occasionally  the  seedlings  of  other  flowers  which 
have  bided  their  time  in  the  dark  earth.  Traces 
of  the  residence  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  in  Ireland 
may  still  be  seen  in  the  growth  of  richly  per- 
fumed wall-flowers  which  he  brought  from  the 
Azores.  The  Affane  Cherry  is  found  where  he 
planted  it,  and  some  of  his  Cedars  are  living.  The 
summer-house  of  Yew  trees  sheltered  him  when  he 
smoked  in  the  garden,  and  in  this  garden  he  planted 
Tobacco.  Near  by  is  the  famous  spot  where  he 
planted  what  were  then  called  Virginian  Potatoes. 
By  that  planting  they  acquired  the  name  of  Irish 
Potatoes. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  Prince  Nurseries  in  Flush- 
ing;  the  old  nurserymen  left  a  more  lasting  mark 
than  their  Nurseries,  in  the  rare  trees  and  plants  now 
found  on  the  roads-,  and  in  the  fields  and  gardens 
for  many  miles  around  Flushing.  With  the  Parsons 
family,  who  have  been,  since  1838,  distributors 
of  unusual  plants,  especially  the  splendid  garden 
treasures  from  China  and  Japan,  they  have  made 
Flushing  a  delightful  nature-study. 

In  the  humblest  dooryard,  and  by  the  wayside  in 
outlying  parts  of  the  town,  may  be  seen  rare  and 
beautiful  old  trees  :  a  giant  purple  Beech  is  in  a  la- 
borer's yard ;  fine  Cedars,  Salisburias,  red-flowered 
Horse-chestnuts,  Japanese  flowering  Quinces  and 


Gardens  of  the  Poets 


231 


Cherries,  and  even  rare  Japanese  Maples  are  to  be 
found ;  a  few  survivors  of  the  Chinese  Mulberry 
have  a  romantic  interest  as  mementoes  of  a  giant 
bubble  of  ruin.  The  largest  Scotch  Laburnum  I 
ever  saw,  glorious  in  golden  bloom,  is  behind  an 
unkempt  house.  On  the  Parsons  estate  is  a  weep- 
ing Beech  of  unusual  size.  Its  branches  trail  on 


Box  and  Phlox. 


the  ground  in  a  vast  circumference  of  222  feet, 
forming  a  great  natural  arbor.  The  beautiful  vernal 
light  in  this  tree  bower  may  be  described  in  Andrew 
Marvell's  words  :  — 

"Annihilating  all  that's  made 

To  a  green  thought  in  a  green  shade." 

The  photograph  of  it,  shown  opposite  page  232, 
gives  some  scant  idea  of  its  leafy  walls  ;  it  has  been 
for  years  the  fit  trysting-place  of  lovers,  as  is  shown 
by  the  initials  carved  on  the  great  trunk.  Great 


232  Old  Time  Gardens 

Judas  trees,  sadly  broken  yet  bravely  blooming ; 
decayed  hedges  of  several  kinds  of  Lilacs,  Syringas, 
Snowballs,  and  Yuccas  of  princely  size  and  bearing 
still  linger.  Everywhere  are  remnants  of  Box  hedges. 
One  unkempt  dooryard  of  an  old  Dutch  farm-house 
was  glorified  with  a  broad  double  row  of  yellow  Lily 
at  least  sixty  feet  in  length.  Everywhere  is  Wistaria, 
on  porches,  fences,  houses,  and  trees ;  the  abundant 
Dogwood  trees  are  often  overgrown  with  Wistaria. 
The  most  exquisite  sight  of  the  floral  year  was  the 
largest  Dogwood  tree  I  have  ever  seen,  radiant  with 
starry  white  bloom,  and  hung  to  the  tip  of  every 
white-flowered  branch  with  the  drooping  amethystine 
racemes  of  Wistaria  of  equal  luxuriance.  Golden- 
yellow  Laburnum  blooms  were  in  one  case  mingled 
with  both  purple  and  wnite  Wistaria.  These  yellow, 
purple,  and  white  blooms  of  similar  shape  were  a 
curious  sight,  as  if  a  single  plant  had  been  grafted. 
As  I  rode  past  so  many  glimpses  of  loveliness  min- 
gled with  so  much  present  squalor,  I  could  but  think 
of  words  of  the  old  hymn  :  — 

"  Where  every  prospect  pleases 
And  only  man  is  vile." 

Could  the  hedges,  trees,  and  vines  which  came 
from  the  Prince  and  Parsons  Nurseries  have  been 
cared  for,  northeastern  Long  Island,  which  is  part 
of  the  city  of  Greater  New  York,  would  still  be  what 
it  was  named  by  the  early  explorers,  "  The  Pearl  of 
New  Netherland." 


Within  the  Weeping  Beech. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    CHARM    OF    COLOR 

"  How  strange  are  the  freaks  of  memory, 

The  lessons  of  life  we  forget. 
While  a  trifle,  a  trick  of  color, 
In  the  wonderful  web  is  set." 

— JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 

HE  quality  of  charm  in  color  is 
most  subtle  ;  it  is  like  the  human 
attribute  known  as  fascination, 
"  whereof,"  says  old  Cotton 
Mather,  "  men  have  more  Ex- 
perience than  Comprehension." 
Certainly  some  alliance  of  color  with  a  form  suited 
or  wonted  to  it  is  necessary  to  produce  a  gratifica- 
tion of  the  senses.  Thus  in  the  leaves  of  plants 
every  shade  of  green  is  pleasing ;  then  why  is  there 
no  charm  in  a  green  flower  ?  The  green  of  Migno- 
nette bloom  would  scarcely  be  deemed  beautiful 
were  it  not  for  our  association  of  it  with  the  deli- 
cious fragrance.  White  is  the  absence  of  color.  In 
flowers  a  pure  chalk-white,  and  a  snow-white  (which 
is  bluish)  is  often  found;  but  more  frequently  the 
white  flower  blushes  a  little,  or  is  warmed  with 
yellow,  or  has  green  veins. 

Where   green   runs    into    the    petals   of  a   white 
flower,  its  beauty  hangs  by  a  slender  thread.      If 
233 


234 


Old  Time  Gardens 


the  green  lines  have  any  significance,  as  have  the 
faint  green  checkerings  of  the  Fritillary,  which  I 
have  described  elsewhere  in  this  book,  they  add 
to  its  interest ;  but  ordinarily  they  make  the  petals 
seem  undeveloped.  The  Snowdrop  bears  the  mark 
of  one  of  the  few  tints  of  green  which  we  like  in 
white  flowers ;  its  "  heart-shaped  seal  of  green," 


Spring  Snowflake. 

sung  by  Rossetti,  has  been  noted  by  many  other 
poets.     Tennyson  wrote  :  — 

"  Pure  as  lines  of  green  that  streak  the  white 
Of  the  first  Snowdrop's  inner  leaves." 

A  cousin  of  the  Snowdrop,  is  the  "  Spring  Snow- 
flake  "  or  Leucojum,  called  also  by  New  England 
country  folk  "  High  Snowdrop."  It  bears  at  the 
end  of  each  snowy  petal  a  tiny  exact  spot  of  green  ; 


The  Charm  of  Color  235 

and  I  think  it  must  have  been  the  flower  sung  by 
Leigh  Hunt:  — 

'«  The  nice-leaved  lesser  Lilies, 
Shading  like  detected  light 
Their  little  green-tipt  lamps  of  white." 

The  illustration  on  page  234  shows  the  graceful 
growth  of  the  flower  and  its  exquisitely  precise  little 
green-dotted  petals,  but  it  has  not  caught  its  lumin- 
ous whiteness,  which  seems  almost  of  phosphores- 
cent brightness  in  each  little  flower. 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem  is  a  plant  in  which  the 
white  and  green  of  the  leaf  is  curiously  repeated  in 
the  flower.  Gardeners  seldom  admit  this  flower 
now  to  their  gardens,  it  so  quickly  crowds  out  every- 
thing else ;  it  has  become  on  Long  Island  nothing 
but  a  weed.  The  high-growing  Star  of  Bethlehem 
is  a  pretty  thing.  A  bed  of  it  in  my  sister's  garden 
is  shown  on  page  237. 

It  is  curious  that  when  all  agree  that  green  flowers 
have  no  beauty  and  scant  charm,  that  a  green  flower 
should  have  been  one  of  the  best-loved  flowers  of 
my  home  garden.  But  this  love  does  not  come 
from  any  thought  of  the  color,  or  beauty  of  the 
flower,  but  from  association.  It  was  my  mother's 
favorite,  hence  it  is  mine.  It  was  her  favorite  be- 
cause she  loved  its  clear,  pure,  spicy  fragrance.  This 
ever  present  and  ever  welcome  scent  which  pervades 
the  entire  garden  if  leaf  or  flower  of  the  loved 
Ambrosia  be  crushed,  is  curious  and  characteristic, 
a  true  "  ambrosiack  odor,"  to  use  Ben  Jonson's 
words. 


236  Old  Time  Gardens 

A  vivid  description  of  Ambrosia  is  that  of 
Gerarde  in  his  delightful  Herball. 

"  Oke  of  Jerusalem,  or  Botrys,  hath  sundry  small  stems 
a  foote  and  a  halfe  high  dividing  themselves  into  many 
small  branches.  The  leafe  very  much  resembling  the  leafe 
of  an  Oke,  which  hath  caused  our  English  women  to  call 
it  Oke  of  Jerusalem.  The  upper  side  of  the  leafe  is  a 
deepe  greene  and  somewhat  rough  and  hairy,  but  under- 
neath it  is  of  a  darke  reddish  or  purple  colour.  The  seedie 
floures  grow  clustering  about  the  branches  like  the  yong 
clusters  or  blowings  of  the  Vine.  The  roote  is  small  and 
thriddy.  The  whole  herbe  is  of  a  pleasant  smell  and 
savour,  and  the  whole  plant  dieth  when  the  seed  is  ripe. 
Oke  of  Jerusalem  is  of  divers  called  Ambrosia." 

Ambrosia  has  been  loved  for  many  centuries  by 
Englishwomen ;  it  is  in  the  first  English  list  of 
names  of  plants,  which  was  made  in  1548  by  one 
Dr.  Turner ;  and  in  this  list  it  is  called  "  Ambrose." 
He  says  of  it :  — 

"  Botrys  is  called  in  englishe,  Oke  of  Hierusalem,  in 
duche,  trauben  kraute,  in  french  pijmen.  It  groweth  in 
gardines  muche  in  England." 

Ambrosia  has  now  died  out  "  in  gardines  muche 
in  England."  I  have  had  many  letters  from  Eng- 
lish flower  lovers  telling  me  they  know  it  not ;  and 
I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  sending  the  seeds  to 
several  old  English  and  Scotch  gardens,  where  I 
hope  it  will  once  more  grow  and  flourish,  for  I  am 
sure  it  must  feel  at  home. 


The  Charm  of  Color  237 

The  seeds  of  this  beloved  Ambrosia,  which  filled 
my  mother's  garden  in  every  spot  in  which  it 
could  spring,  and  which  overflowed  with  cheerful 
welcome  into  the  gardens  of  our  neighbors,  was 
given  her  from  the  garden  of  a  great-aunt  in  Wai- 
pole,  New  Hampshire.  This  Walpole  garden  was 


Star  of  Bethlehem. 


a  famous  gathering  of  old-time  favorites,  and  it  had 
the  delightful  companionship  of  a  wild  garden.  On 
a  series  of  terraces  with  shelving  banks,  which  reached 
down  to  a  stream,  the  boys  of  the  family  planted, 
seventy  years  ago,  a  myriad  of  wild  flowers,  shrubs, 
and  trees,  from  the  neighboring  woods.  By  the  side 
of  the  garden  great  Elm  trees  sheltered  scores  of 
beautiful  gray  squirrels  ;  and  behind  the  house  and 


238 


Old  Time  Gardens 


garden  an  orchard  led  to  the  wheat  fields,  which 
stretched  down  to  the  broad  Connecticut  River.  All 
flowers  thrived  there,  both  in  the  Box-bordered  beds 
and  in  the  wild  garden,  perhaps  because  the  morning 
mists  from  the  river  helped  out  the  heavy  buckets 
of  water  from  the  well  during  the  hot  summer 


"The  Pearl." 

weeks.  Even  in  winter  the  wild  garden  was  beauti- 
ful from  the  brilliant  Bittersweet  which  hung  from 
every  tree. 

Here  Ambrosia  was  plentiful,  but  is  plentiful  no 
longer ;  and  Walpole  garden  lovers  seek  seeds  of 
it  from  the  Worcester  garden.  I  think  it  dies  out 
generally  when  all  the  weeding  and  garden  care  is 
done  by  gardeners;  they  assume  that  the  little 


The  Charm  of  Color  239 

plants  of  such  modest  bearing  are  weeds,  and  pull 
them  up,  with  many  other  precious  seedlings  of 
the  old  garden,  in  their  desire  to  have  ample  expanse 
of  naked  dirt.  One  of  the  charms  which  was  per- 
mitted to  the  old  garden  was  its  fulness.  Nature 
there  certainly  abhorred  a  vacant  space.  The  garden 
soil  was  full  of  resources  ;  it  had  a  seed  for  every 
square  inch  ;  it  seemed  to  have  a  reserve  store  ready 
to  crowd  into  any  space  offered  by  the  removal  or 
dying  down  of  a  plant  at  any  time. 

Let  me  tell  of  a  curious  thing  I  found  in  an  old 
book,  anent  our  subject  —  green  flowers.  It  shows 
that  we  must  not  accuse  our  modern  sensation 
lovers,  either  in  botany  or  any  other  science,  of 
being  the  only  ones  to  add  artifice  to  nature.  The 
green  Carnation  has  been  chosen  to  typify  the 
decadence  and  monstrosity  of  the  end  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  ;  but  nearly  two  hundred  years  ago 
a  London  fruit  and  flower  grower,  named  Richard 
Bradley,  wrote  a  treatise  upon  field  husbandry  and 
garden  culture,  and  in  it  he  tells  of  a  green  Carna- 
tion which  "  a  certayn  fryar  "  produced  by  grafting 
a  Carnation  upon  a  Fennel  stalk.  The  flowers 
were  green  for  several  years,  then  nature  overcame 
decadent  art. 

There  be  those  who  are  so  enamoured  of  the  color 
green  and  of  foliage,  that  they  care  little  for  flowers 
of  varied  tint ;  even  in  a  garden,  like  the  old  poet 
Marvell,  they  deem, — 

"No  white  nor  red  was  ever  seen 
So  amorous  as  this  lovely  green." 


240  Old  Time  Gardens 

Such  folk  could  scarce  find  content  in  an  Ameri- 
can garden  ;  for  our  American  gardeners  must  con- 
fess, with  Shakespeare's  clown :  "  I  am  no  great 
Nebuchadnezzar,  sir,  I  have  not  much  skill  in  grass." 
Our  lawns  are  not  old  enough. 

A  charming  greenery  of  old  English  gardens  was 
the  bowling-green.  We  once  had  them  in  our  colo- 
nies, as  the  name  of  a  street  in  our  greatest  city  now 
proves ;  and  I  deem  them  a  garden  fashion  well-to- 
be-revived. 

The  laws  of  color  preference  differ  with  the  size 
of  expanses.  Our  broad  fields  often  have  pleasing 
expanses  of  leafage  other  than  green,  and  flowers 
that  are  as  all-pervading  as  foliage.  Many  flowers 
of  the  field  have  their  day,  when  each  seems  to  be 
queen,  a  short  day,  but  its  rights  none  dispute. 
Snow  of  Daisies,  yellow  of  Dandelions,  gold  of  But- 
tercups, purple  pinkness  of  Clover,  Innocence,  Blue- 
eyed  Grass,  Milkweed,  none  reign  more  absolutely 
in  every  inch  of  the  fields  than  that  poverty  stricken 
creature,  the  Sorrel.  William  Morris  warns  us  that 
"  flowers  in  masses  are  mighty  strong  color,"  and  must 
be  used  with  much  caution  in  a  garden.  But  there 
need  be  no  fear  of  massed  color  in  a  field,  as  being 
ever  gaudy  or  cloying.  An  approach  to  the  beauty 
and  satisfaction  of  nature's  plentiful  field  may  be 
artificially  obtained  as  an  adjunct  to  the  garden  in  a 
flower-close  sown  or  set  with  a  solid  expanse  of 
bloom  of  some  native  or  widely  adopted  plant.  I 
have  seen  a  flower-close  of  Daisies,  another  of  But- 
tercups, one  of  Larkspur,  one  of  Coreopsis.  A 
new  field  tint,  and  a  splendid  one,  has  been  given  to 


The  Charm  of  Color  241 

us  within  a  few  years,  by  the  introduction  of  the 
vivid  red  of  Italian  clover.  It  is  eagerly  welcomed 
to  our  fields,  so  scant  of  scarlet.  This  clover  was 
brought  to  America  in  the  years  1824  et  seq.y  and  is 
described  in  contemporary  publications  in  alluring 
sentences.  I  have  noted  the  introduction  of  several 
vegetables,  grains,  fruits,  berries,  shrubs,  and  flowers 
in  those  years,  and  attribute  this  to  the  influence  of 
the  visit  of  Lafayette  in  1824.  Adored  by  all,  his 
lightest  word  was  heeded  ;  and  he  was  a  devoted 
agriculturist  and  horticulturist,  ever  exchanging  ideas, 
seeds,  and  plants  with  his  American  fellow-patriots 
and  fellow-farmers.  I  doubt  if  Italian  clover  then 
became  widely  known  ;  but  our  modern  farmers  now 
think  well  of  it,  and  the  flower  lover  revels  in  it. 

The  exigencies  of  rhyme  and  rhythm  force  us  to 
endure  some  very  curious  notions  of  color  in  the 
poets.  I  think  no  saying  of  poet  ever  gave  greater 
check  to  her  lovers  than  these  lines  of  Emily  Dick- 
inson :  — 

"  Nature  rarer  uses  yellow 

Than  another  hue  ; 
Saves  she  all  of  that  for  sunsets, 

Prodigal  of  blue. 
Spending  scarlet  like  a  woman, 

Yellow  she  affords 
Only  scantly  and  selectly, 

Like  a  lover's  words." 

I  read  them  first  with  a  sense  of  misapprehension 
that  I  had  not  seen  aright;  but  there  the  words 
stood  out,  "  Nature  rarer  uses  yellow  than  another 
hue."  The  writer  was  such  a  jester,  such  a  tricky 


242 


Old  Time  Gardens 


Pyrethrum. 

elf  that  I  fancy  she  wrote  them  in  pure  "  contrari- 
ness," just  to  see  what  folks  would  say,  how  they 
would  dispute  over  her  words.  For  I  never  can 
doubt  that,  with  all  her  recluse  life,  she  knew  intui- 
tively that  some  time  her  lines  would  be  read  by 
folks  who  would  love  them. 

The  scarcity  of  red  wild  flowers  is  either  a  cause 


The  Charm  of  Color  243 

or  an  effect ;  at  any  rate  it  is  said  to  be  connected 
with  the  small  number  of  humming-birds,  who  play 
an  important  part  in  the  fertilization  of  many  of  the 
red  flowers.  There  are  no  humming-birds  in 
Europe ;  and  the  Aquilegia,  red  and  yellow  here, 
is  blue  there,  and  is  then  fertilized  by  the  assist- 
ance of  the  bumblebee.  Without  humming-birds  the 
English  successfully  accomplish  one  glorious  sweep 
of  red  in  the  Poppies  of  the  field ;  Parkinson 
called  them  "a  beautiful  and  gallant  red"  —  a  very 
happy  phrase.  Ruskin,  that  master  of  color  and  of 
its  description,  and  above  all  master  of  the  descrip- 
tion of  Poppies,  says  :  — 

"  The  Poppy  is  the  most  transparent  and  delicate  of  all 
the  blossoms  of  the  field.  The  rest,  nearly  all  of  them, 
depend  on  the  texture  of  their  surface  for  color.  But  the 
Poppy  is  painted  glass  ;  it  never  glows  so  brightly  as  when 
the  sun  shines  through  it.  Whenever  it  is  seen,  against  the 
light  or  with  the  light,  it  is  a  flame,  and  warms  the  wind 
like  a  blown  ruby." 

There  is  one  quality  of  the  Oriental  Poppies 
which  is  very  palpable  to  me.  They  have  often 
been  called  insolent — Browning  writes  of  the 
"  Poppy's  red  afFrontery  "  ;  to  me  the  Poppy  has 
an  angry  look.  It  is  wonderfully  haughty  too,  and 
its  seed-pod  seems  like  an  emblem  of  its  rank. 
This  great  green  seed-pod  stands  one  inch  high 
in  the  centre  of  the  silken  scarlet  robe,  and  has  an 
antique  crown  of  purple  bands  with  filling  of  lilac, 
just  like  the  crown  in  some  ancient  kingly  portraits, 
when  the  bands  of  gold  and  gems  radiating  from  a 


244  Old  Time  Gardens 

great  jewel  in  the  centre  are  filled  with  crimson  or 
purple  velvet.  Around  this  splendid  crowned  seed- 
vessel  are  rows  of  stamens  and  purple  anthers  of 
richest  hue. 

We  must  not  let  any  scarlet  flower  be  dropped 
from  the  garden,  certainly  not  the  Geranium,  which 
just  at  present  does  not  shine  so  bravely  as  a  few 
years  ago.  The  general  revulsion  of  feeling  against 
"  bedding  out "  has  extended  to  the  poor  plants 
thus  misused,  which  is  unjust.  I  find  I  have 
spoken  somewhat  despitefully  of  the  Coleus,  Lo- 
belia, and  Calceolaria,  so  I  hasten  to  say  that  I  do 
not  include  the  Geranium  with  them.  I  love  its 
clean  color,  in  leaf  and  blossom;  its  clean  fragrance; 
its  clean  beauty,  its  healthy  growth  ;  it  is  a  plant  I 
like  to  have  near  me. 

It  has  been  the  custom  of  late  to  sneer  at  crimson 
in  the  garden,  especially  if  its  vivid  color  gets  a 
dash  of  purple  and  becomes  what  Miss  Jekyll  calls 
"  malignant  magenta."  It  is  really  more  vulgar 
than  malignant,  and  has  come  to  be  in  textile  prod- 
ucts a  stamp  and  symbol  of  vulgarity,  through  the 
forceful  brilliancy  of  our  modern  aniline  dyes.  But 
this  purple  crimson,  this  amarant,  this  magenta, 
especially  in  the  lighter  shades,  is  a  favorite  color  in 
nature.  The  garden  is  never  weary  of  wearing  it. 
See  how  it  stands  out  in  midsummer  !  It  is  rank 
in  Ragged  Robin,  tall  Phlox,  and  Petunias  ;  you 
find  it  in  the  bed  of  Drummond  Phlox,  among  the 
Zinnias ;  the  Portulacas,  Balsams,  and  China  Asters 
prolong  it.  Earlier  in  the  summer  the  Rhododen- 
drons fill  the  garden  with  color  that  on  some  of  the 


The  Charm  of  Color  245 

bushes  is  termed  sultana  and  crimson,  but  it  is  in 
fact  plain  magenta.  One  of  the  good  points  of 
the  Peony  is  that  you  never  saw  a  magenta  one. 

This  color  shows  that  time  as  well  as  place  affects 
our  color  notions,  for  magenta  is  believed  to  be  the 
honored  royal  purple  of  the  ancients.  Fifty  years 
ago  no  one  complained  of  magenta.  It  was  deemed 
a  cheerful  color,  and  was  set  out  boldly  and  com- 
placently by  the  side  of  pink  or  scarlet,  or  wall 
flower  colors.  Now  I  dislike  it  so  that  really  the 
printed  word,  seen  often  as  I  glance  back  through 
this  page,  makes  the  black  and  white  look  cheap. 
If  I  could  turn  all  magenta  flowers  pink  or  purple, 
I  should  never  think  further  about  garden  harmony, 
all  other  colors  would  adjust  themselves. 

It  has  been  the  fortune  of  some  communities  to 
be  the  home  of  men  in  nature  like  Thoreau  of  Con- 
cord and  Gilbert  White  of  Selborne,  men  who  live 
solely  in  love  of  out-door  things,  birds,  flowers,  rocks, 
and  trees.  To  all  these  nature  lovers  is  not  given 
the  power  of  writing  down  readily  what  they  see  and 
know,  usually  the  gift  of  composition  is  denied  them; 
but  often  they  are  just  as  close  and  accurate  observers 
as  the  men  whose  names  are  known  to  the  world  by 
their  writings.  Sometimes  these  naturalists  boldly 
turn  to  nature,  their  loved  mother,  and  earn  their 
living  in  the  woods  and  fields.  Sometimes  they  have 
a  touch  of  the  hermit  in  them,  they  prefer  nature  to 
man;  others  are  genial,  kindly  men,  albeit  possessed 
of  a  certain  reserve.  I  deem  the  community  blest 
that  has  such  a  citizen,  for  his  influence  in  promoting 
a  love  and  study  of  nature  is  ever  great.  I  have 


246 


Old  Time  Gardens 


known  one  such  ardent  naturalist,  Arba  Peirce,  ever 
since  my  childhood.      He  lives  the  greater  part  of 


Terraced  Garden  of  Misses  Nichols,  Salem,  Massachusetts. 

his  waking  hours  in  the  woods  and  fields,  and  these 
waking  hours  are  from  sunrise.      From  the  earliest 


The  Charm  of  Color  247 

bloom  of  spring  to  the  gay  berry  of  autumn,  he  knows 
all  beautiful  things  that  grow,  and  where  they  grow, 
for  hundreds  of  miles  around  his  home. 

I  speak  of  him  in  this  connection  because  he  has 
acquired  through  his  woodland  life  a  wonderful 
power  of  distinguishing  flowers  at  great  distance 
with  absolute  accuracy.  Especially  do  his  eyes  have 
the  power  of  detecting  those  rose-lilac  tints  which 
are  characteristic  of  our  rarest,  our  most  delicate  wild 
flowers,  and  which  I  always  designate  to  myself  as 
Arethusa  color.  He  brought  me  this  June  a  royal 
gift  —  a  great  bunch  of  wild  fringed  Orchids,  another 
of  Calopogon,  and  one  of  Arethusa.  What  a  color 
study  these  three  made  !  At  the  time  their  lilac- 
rose  tints  seemed  to  me  far  lovelier  than  any  pure 
rose  colors.  In  those  wild  princesses  were  found 
every  tone  of  that  lilac-rose  from  the  faint  blush 
like  the  clouds  of  a  warm  sunset,  to  a  glow  on  the  lip 
of  the  Arethusa,  like  the  crimson  glow  of  Mullein 
Pink. 

My  friend  of  the  meadow  and  wildwood  had 
gathered  that  morning  a  glorious  harvest,  over  two 
thousand  stems  of  Pogonia,  from  his  own  hidden 
spot,  which  he  has  known  for  forty  years  and  from 
whence  no  other  hand  ever  gathers.  For  a  little 
handful  of  these  flower  heads  he  easily  obtains  a 
dollar.  He  has  acquired  gradually  a  regular  round 
of  customers,  for  whom  he  gathers  a  successive  har- 
vest of  wild  flowers  from  Pussy  Willows  and  Hepat- 
ica  to  winter  berries.  It  is  not  easily  earned  money 
to  stand  in  heavy  rubber  boots  in  marsh  mud  and 
water  reaching  nearly  to  the  waist,  but  after  all 


248  Old  Time  Gardens 

it  is  happy  work.  Jeered  at  in  his  early  life  by 
fools  for  his  wood-roving  tastes,  he  has  now  the 
pleasure  and  honor  of  supplying  wild  flowers  to 
our  public  schools,  and  being  the  authority  to  whom 
scholars  and  teachers  refer  in  vexed  questions  of 
botany. 

I  think  the  various  tints  allied  to  purple  are  the 
most  difficult  to  define  and  describe  of  any  in  the 
garden.  To  begin  with,  all  these  pinky-purple, 
these  arethusa  tints  are  nameless ;  perhaps  orchid 
color  is  as  good  a  name  as  any.  Many  deem  purple 
and  violet  precisely  the  same.  Lavender  has  much 
gray  in  its  tint.  Miss  Jekyll  deems  mauve  and 
lilac  the  same ;  to  me  lilac  is  much  pinker,  much 
more  delicate.  Is  heliotrope  a  pale  bluish  purple  ? 
Some  call  it  a  blue  faintly  tinged  with  red.  Then 
there  are  the  orchid  tints,  which  have  more  pink 
than  blue.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that,  with  all  these 
allied  tints  which  come  from  the  union  of  blue 
with  red,  the  color  name  comes  from  a  flower 
name.  Violet,  lavender,  lilac,  heliotrope,  orchid, 
are  examples ;  each  is  an  exact  tint.  Rose  and 
pink  are  color  names  from  flowers,  and  flowers 
of  much  variety  of  colors,  but  the  tint  name  is 
unvarying. 

Edward  de  Goncourt,  of  all  writers  on  flowers  and 
gardens,  seems  to  have  been  most  frankly  pleased 
with  the  artificial  side  of  the  gardener's  art.  He 
viewed  the  garden  with  the  eye  of  a  colorist,  setting 
a  palette  of  varied  greens  from  the  deep  tones  of  the 
evergreens,  the  Junipers  and  Cryptomerias  through 
the  variegated  Hollies,  Privets  and  Spindle  trees ; 


The  Charm  of  Color  249 

and  he  said  that  an  "  elegantly  branched  coquet- 
tishly  variegated  bush  "  seemed  to  him  like  a  piece 
of  bric-a-brac  which  should  be  hunted  out  and 
praised  like  some  curio  hidden  on  the  shelf  of  a 
collector. 

A  lack  of  color  perception  seems  to  have  been 
prevalent  of  ancient  days,  as  it  is  now  in  some 
Oriental  countries.  The  Bible  offers  evidence  of 
this,  and  it  has  also  been  observed  that  the  fra- 
grance of  flowers  is  nowhere  noted  until  we  reach  the 
Song  of  Solomon.  It  is  believed  that  in  earliest 
time  archaic  men  had  no  sense  of  color ;  that  they 
knew  only  light  and  darkness.  Mr.  Gladstone  wrote 
a  most  interesting  paper  on  the  lack  of  color  sense  in 
Homer,  whose  perception  of  brilliant  light  was 
good,  especially  in  the  glowing  reflections  of  metals, 
but  who  never  names  blue  or  green  even  in  speak- 
ing of  the  sky,  or  trees,  while  his  reds  and  purples 
are  hopelessly  mixed.  Some  German  scientists  have 
maintained  that  as  recently  as  Homer's  day,  our 
ancestors  were  (to  use  Sir  John  Lubbock's  word) 
blue-blind,  which  fills  me,  as  it  must  all  blue  lovers, 
with  profound  pity. 

The  influence  of  color  has  ever  been  felt  by  other 
senses  than  that  of  sight.  In  the  Cotton  Manuscript  s> 
written  six  hundred  years  ago,  the  relations  and  ef- 
fects of  color  on  music  and  coat-armor  were  labori- 
ously explained  :  and  many  later  writers  have  striven 
to  show  the  effect  of  color  on  the  health,  imagination, 
or  fortune.  I  see  no  reason  for  sneering  at  these 
notions  of  sense-relation  ;  I  am  grateful  for  borrowed 
terms  of  definition  for  these  beautiful  things  which 


250 


Old  Time  Gardens 


are  so  hard  to  define.  When  an  artist  says  to  me, 
"There  is  a  color  that  sings,"  I  know  what  he 
means ;  as  I  do  when  my  friend  says  of  the  funeral 
music  in  Tristan  that  "  it  always  hurts  her  eyes." 
Musicians  compose  symphonies  in  color,  and  artists 
paint  pictures  in  symphonies.  Musicians  and  authors 


Arbor  in  a  Salem  Garden. 


acknowledge  the  domination  of  color  and  color 
terms ;  a  glance  at  a  modern  book  catalogue  will 
prove  it.  Stephen  Crane  and  other  modern  extrem- 
ists depend  upon  color  to  define  and  describe 
sounds,  smells,  tastes,  feelings,  ideas,  vices,  virtues, 
traits,  as  well  as  sights.  Sulphur-yellow  is  deemed 


The  Charm  of  Color  251 

an  inspiring  color,  and  light  green  a  clean  color; 
every  one  knows  the  influence  of  bright  red  upon 
many  animals  and  birds ;  it  is  said  all  barnyard 
fowl  are  affected  by  it.  If  any  one  can  see  a  sunny 
bed  of  blue  Larkspur  in  full  bloom  without  being 
moved  thereby,  he  must  be  color  blind  and  sound 
deaf  as  well,  for  that  indeed  is  a  sight  full  of  music 
and  noble  inspiration,  a  realization  of  Keats'  beau- 
tiful thought : — 

"  Delicious  symphonies,  like  airy  flowers 
Budded,  and  swell'd,  and  full-blown,  shed  full  showers 
Of  light,  soft  unseen  leaves  of  sound  divine." 


CHAPTER   XI 


THE    BLUE    FLOWER    BORDER 

"  Blue  thou  art,  intensely  blue  ! 

Flower  !  whence  came  thy  dazzling  hue  ? 
When  I  opened  first  mine  eye, 
Upward  glancing  to  the  sky, 
Straightway  from  the  firmament 
Was  the  sapphire  brilliance  sent." 

—  JAMES  MONTGOMERY. 

UESTIONS  of  color  relations  in 
a  garden  are  most  opinion-mak- 
ing and  controversy-provoking. 
Shall  we  plant  by  chance,  or  by  a 
flower-loving  instinct  for  shel- 
tered and  suited  locations,  as  was 
done  in  all  old-time  gardens,  and 
with  most  happy  and  most  un- 
affected results  ?  or  shall  we  plant  severely  by  col- 
ors—  all  yellow  flowers  in  a  border  together?  all 
red  flowers  side  by  side  ?  all  pink  flowers  near  each 
other  ?  This  might  be  satisfactory  in  small  gardens, 
but  I  am  uncertain  whether  any  profound  gratifi- 
cation or  full  flower  succession  would  come  from 
such  rigid  planting  in  long  flower  borders. 

William   Morris  warns  us  that  flowers  in  masses 
are  "  mighty  strong  color,"  and  must  be  used  with 
caution.     A  still  greater  cause  for  hesitation  would 
252 


The  Blue  Flower  Border  253 

be  the  ugly  jarring  of  juxtaposing  tints  of  the  same 
color.  Yellows  do  little  injury  to  each  other;  but 
I  cannot  believe  that  a  mixed  border  of  red  flowers 
would  ever  be  satisfactory  or  scarcely  endurable; 
and  few  persons  would  care  for  beds  of  -all  white 
flowers.  But  when  I  reach  the  Blue  Border,  then  I 
can  speak  with  decision  ;  I  know  whereof  I  write, 
I  know  the  variety  and  beauty  of  a  garden  bed  of 
blue  flowers.  In  blue  you  may  have  much  differ- 
ence in  tint  and  quality  without  losing  color  effect. 
The  Persian  art  workers  have  accomplished  the 
combining  of  varying  blues  most  wonderfully  and 
successfully :  purplish  blues  next  to  green-blues, 
and  sapphire-blues  alongside;  and  blues,  seldom 
clash  in  the  flower  beds. 

Blue  is  my  best  beloved  color ;  I  love  it  as  the 
bees  Jove  it.  Every  blue  flower  is  mine ;  and  I  am 
as  pleased  as  with  a  tribute  of  praise  to  a  friend  to 
learn  that  scientists  have  proved  that  blue  flowers 
represent  the  most  highly  developed  lines  of 
descent.  These  learned  men  believe  that  all 
flowers  were  at  first  yellow,  being  perhaps  only 
developed  stamens ;  then  some  became  white, 
others  red ;  while  the  purple  and  blue  were  the 
latest  and  highest  forms.  The  simplest  shaped 
flowers,  open  to  be  visited  by  every  insect,  are  still 
yellow  or  white,  running  into  red  or  pink.  Thus 
the  Rose  family  have  simple  open  symmetrical 
flowers  ;  and  there  are  no  blue  Roses  —  the  flower 
has  never  risen  to  the  blue  stage.  In  the  Pea 
family  the  simpler  flowers  are  yellow  or  red ;  while 
the  highly  evolved  members,  such  as  Lupines, 


254  Old  Time  Gardens 

Wistaria,  Everlasting  Pea,  are  purple  or  blue,  vary- 
ing to  white.  Bees  are  among  the  highest  forms  of 
insect  life,  and  the  labiate  flowers  are  adapted  to 
their  visits ;  these  nearly  all  have  purple  or  blue 
petals  —  Thy  me,  Sage,  Mint,  Marjoram,  Basil, 
Prunella,  etc. 

Of  course  the  Blue  Border  runs  into  tints  of  pale 
lilac  and  purple  and  is  thereby  the  gainer;  but  I 


Scilla. 


would  remove  from  it  the  purple  Clematis,  Wistaria, 
and  Passion-flower,  all  of  which  a  friend  has  planted 
to  cover  the  wall  behind  her  blue  flower  bed.  Some- 
times the  line  between  blue  and  purple  is  hard  to 
define.  Keats  invented  a  word,  purplue,  which  he 
used  for  this  indeterminate  color. 

I  would  not,  in  my  Blue  Border,  exclude  an  occa- 
sional group  of  flowers  of  other  colors  ;    I  love  a 


The  Blue  Flower  Border  255 

border  of  all  colors  far  too  well  to  do  that.  Here, 
as  everywhere  in  my  garden,  should  be  white  flowers, 
especially  tall  white  flowers  :  white  Foxgloves,  white 
Delphinium,  white  Lupine,  white  Hollyhock,  white 
Bell-flower,  nor  should  I  object  to  a  few  spires  at 
one  end  of  the  bed  of  sulphur-yellow  Lupines,  or 
yellow  Hollyhocks,  or  a  group  of  Paris  Daisies. 
I  have  seen  a  great  Oriental  Poppy  growing  in 
wonderful  beauty  near  a  mass  of  pale  blue  Lark- 
spur, and  Shirley  Poppies  are  a  delight  with  blues  ; 
and  any  one  could  arrange  the  pompadour  tints  of 
pink  and  blue  in  a  garden  who  could  in  a  gown. 

Let  me  name  some  of  the  favorites  of  the  Blue 
Border.  The  earliest  but  not  the  eldest  is  the  pretty 
spicy  Scilla  in  several  varieties,  and  most  satisfactory 
it  is  in  perfection  of  tint,  length  of  bloom,  and  great 
hardiness.  It  would  be  welcomed  as  we  eagerly 
greet  all  the  early  spring  blooms,  even  if  it  were 
not  the  perfect  little  blossom  that  is  pictured  on 
page  254,  the  very  little  Scilla  that  grew  in  my 
mother's  garden. 

The  early  spring  blooming  of  the  beloved  Grape 
Hyacinth  gives  us  an  overflowing  bowl  of  "  blue 
principle";  the  whole  plant  is  imbued  and  fairly 
exudes  blue.  Ruskin  gave  the  beautiful  and 
appropriate  term  "  blue-flushing  "  to  this  plant  and 
others,  which  at  the  time  of  their  blossoming  send 
out  through  their  veins  their  blue  color  into  the 
surrounding  leaves  and  the  stem ;  he  says  they 
"breathe  out"  their  color,  and  tells  of  a  "saturated 
purple  "  tint. 

Not    content  with    the    confines    of  the    garden 


Old  Time  Gardens 


border,  the  Grape  Hyacinth  has  "escaped  the 
garden,"  and  become  a  field  flower.  The  "  seeing 
eye,"  ever  quick  to  feel  a  difference  in  shade  or 


Sweet  Alyssum  Edging. 

color,  which  often  proves  very  slight  upon  close 
examination,  viewed  on  Long  Island  a  splendid  sea 
of  blue ;  and  it  seemed  neither  the  time  nor  tint  for 


The  Blue  Flower  Border  257 

the  expected  Violet.  We  found  it  a  field  of  Grape 
Hyacinth,  blue  of  leaf,  of  stem,  of  flower.  While 
all  flowers  are  in  a  sense  perfect,  some  certainly  do 
not  appear  so  in  shape,  among  the  latter  those  of 
irregular  sepals.  Some  flowers  seem  imperfect  with- 
out any  cause  save  the  fancy  of  the  one  who  is 
regarding  them  ;  thus  to  me  the  Balsam  is  an  imper- 
fect flower.  Other  flowers  impress  me  delightfully 
with  a  sense  of  perfection.  Such  is  the  Grape 
Hyacinth,  doubly  grateful  in  this  perfection  in  the 
time  it  comes  in  early  spring.  The  Grape  Hyacinth 
is  the  favorite  spring  flower  of  my  garden  —  but  no  ! 
I  thought  a  minute  ago  the  Scilla  was  !  and  what 
place  has  the  Violet  ?  the  Flower  de  Luce  ?  I  can- 
not decide,  but  this  I  know  —  it  is  some  blue  flower. 

Ruskin  says  of  the  Grape  Hyacinth,  as  he  saw 
it  growing  in  southern  France,  its  native  home,  "  It 
was  as  if  a  cluster  of  grapes  and  a  hive  of  honey 
had  been  distilled  and  pressed  together  into  one 
small  boss  of  celled  and  beaded  blue."  I  always 
think  of  his  term  "  beaded  blue  "  when  I  look  at  it. 
There  are  several  varieties,  from  a  deep  blue  or  pur- 
ple to  sky-blue,  and  one  is  fringed  with  the  most 
delicate  feathery  petals.  Some  varieties  have  a  faint 
perfume,  and  country  folk  call  the  flower  "  Baby's 
Breath  "  therefrom. 

Purely  blue,  too,  are  some  of  our  garden  Hya- 
cinths, especially  a  rather  meagre  single  Hyacinth 
which  looks  a  little  chilly;  and  Gavin  Douglas  wrote 
in  the  springtime  of  1500,  "The  Flower  de  Luce 
forth  spread  his  heavenly  blue."  It  always  jars 
upon  my  sense  of  appropriateness  to  hear  this  old 


258  Old  Time  Gardens 

garden  favorite  called  Fleur  de  Lis.  The  accepted 
derivation  of  the  word  is  that  given  by  Grandmaison 
in  his  Heraldic  Dictionary.  Louis  VII.  of  France, 
whose  name  was  then  written  Loys,  first  gave  the 
name  to  the  flower,  "  Fleur  de  Loys  "  ;  then  it  be- 
came Fleur  de  Louis,  and  finally,  Fleur  de  Lis. 
Our  flower  caught  its  name  from  Louis.  Tusser  in 


Bachelor's  Buttons  in  a  Salem  Garden. 


his  list  of  flowers  for  windows  and  pots  gave  plainly 
Flower  de  Luce;  and  finally  Gerarde  called  the 
plant  Flower  de  Luce,  and  he  advised  its  use  as  a 
domestic  remedy  in  a  manner  which  is  in  vogue 
in  country  homes  in  New  England  to-day.  He 
said  that  the  root  "  stamped  plaister-wise,  doth  take 
away  the  blewnesse  or  blacknesse  of  any  stroke " 
that  is,  a  black  and  blue  bruise.  Another  use 


The  Blue  Flower  Border  259 

advised  of  him  is  as  obsolete  as  the  form  in  which 
it  was  rendered.  He  said  it  was  "good  in  a  loch 
or  licking  medicine  for  shortness  of  breath."  Our 
apothecaries  no  longer  make,  nor  do  our  physicians 
prescribe,  "  licking  medicines."  The  powdered  root 
was  urged  as  a  complexion  beautifier,  especially  to 
remove  morphew,  and  as  orris-root  may  be  found 
in  many  of  our  modern  skin  lotions. 

Ruskin  most  beautifully  describes  the  Flower  de 
Luce  as  the  flower  of  chivalry  —  "with  a  sword  for 
its  leaf,  and  a  Lily  for  its  heart."  These  grand 
clumps  of  erect  old  soldiers,  with  leafy  swords  of 
green  and  splendid  cuirasses  and  plumes  of  gold 
and  bronze  and  blue,  were  planted  a  century  ago  in 
our  grandmothers'  garden,  and  were  then  Flower 
de  Luce.  A  hundred  years  those  sturdy  sentinels 
have  stood  guard  on  either  side  of  the  garden  gates  — 
still  Flower  de  Luce.  There  are  the  same  clean-cut 
leaf  swords,  the  same  exquisite  blossoms,  far  more 
beautiful  than  our  tropical  Orchids,  though  similar 
in  shape;  let  us  not  change  now  their  historic 
name,  they  still  are  Flower  de  Luce  —  the  Flower 
de  Louis. 

The  Violet  family,  with  its  Pansies  and  Ladies' 
Delights,  has  honored  place  in  our  Blue  Border, 
though  the  rigid  color  list  of  a  prosaic  practical  dyer 
finds  these  Violet  allies  a  debased  purple  instead  of 
blue. 

Our  wild  Violets,  the  blue  ones,  have  for  me  a 
sad  lack  for  a  Violet,  that  of  perfume.  They  are 
not  as  lovely  in  the  woodlands  as  their  earlier  com- 
ing neighbor,  the  shy,  pure  Hepatica.  Bryant,  call- 


260  Old  Time  Gardens 

ing  the  Hepatica  Squirrelcups  (a  name  I  never 
heard  given  them  elsewhere),  says  they  form  "  a 
graceful  company  hiding  in  their  bells  a  soft  aerial 
blue."  Of  course,  they  vary  through  blue  and 
pinky  purple,  but  the  blue  is  well  hidden,  and  I 
never  think  of  them  save  as  an  almost  white  flower. 
Nor  are  the  Violets  as  lovely  on  the  meadow  and 
field  slopes,  as  the  mild  Innocence,  the  Houstonia, 
called  also  Bluets,  which  is  scarcely  a  distinctly  blue 
expanse,  but  rather  "a  milky  way  of  minute  stars." 
An  English  botanist  denies  that  it  is  blue  at  all.  A 
field  covered  with  Innocence  always  looks  to  me  as 
if  little  clouds  and  puffs  of  blue-white  smoke  had 
descended  and  rested  on  the  grass. 

I  well  recall  when  the  Aquilegia,  under  the  name 
of  California  Columbine,  entered  my  mother's  gar- 
den, to  which  its  sister,  the  red  and  yellow  Colum- 
bine, had  been  brought  from  a  rocky  New  England 
pasture  when  the  garden  was  new.  This  Aquilegia 
came  to  us  about  the  year  1870.  I  presume  old 
catalogues  of  American  florists  would  give  details 
and  dates  of  the  journey  of  the  plant  from  the  Pa- 
cific to  the  Atlantic.  It  chanced  that  this  first  Aqui- 
legia of  my  acquaintance  was  of  a  distinct  light  blue 
tint ;  and  it  grew  apace  and  thrived  and  was  vastly 
admired,  and  filled  the  border  with  blueness  of 
that  singular  tint  seen  of  late  years  in  its  fullest 
extent  and  most  prominent  position  in  the  great 
masses  of  bloom  of  the  blue  Hydrangea,  the  show 
plant  of  such  splendid  summer  homes  as  may  be 
found  at  Newport.  These  blue  Hydrangeas  are 
ever  to  me  a  color  blot.  They  accord  with  no  other 


A  "Sweet  Garden-side"  in  Salem,   Massachusetts. 


The   Blue  Flower  Border 


261 


flower  and  no  foliage.  I  am  ever  reminded  of  blue 
mould,  of  stale  damp.  I  looked  with  inexpressible 
aversion  on  a  photograph  of  Cecil  Rhodes'  garden 
at  Cape  Town  —  several  solid  acres  set  with  this  blue 
Hydrangea  and 
nothing  else, 
unbroken  by 
tree  or  shrub, 
and  scarce  a 
path,  growing 
as  thick  as  a 
field  sown  with 
ensilage  corn, 
and  then  I 
thought  what 
would  be  the 
color  of  that 
mass!  that  crop 
of  Hydrangeas! 
Yet  I  am  told 
that  Rhodes  is 
a  flower-lover 
and  flower- 
thinker.  Now 
this  Aquilegia 

was  of   similar  Saipigiossis. 

tint;     it    was 

blue,  but  it  was  not  a  pleasing  blue,  and  additional 
plants  of  pink,  lilac,  and  purple  tints  had  to  be 
added  before  the  Aquilegia  was  really  included  in 
our  list  of  well-beloveds. 

There  are  other  flowers  for  the  blue  border.      It 


262  Old  Time  Gardens 

is  pleasant  to  plant  common  Flax,  if  you  have  ample 
room  ;  it  is  a  superb  blue ;  to  many  persons  the 
blossom  is  unfamiliar,  and 'is  always  of  interest.  Its 
lovely  flowers  have  been  much  sung  in  English 
verse.  The  Salpiglossis,  shown  on  the  opposite 
page,  is  in  its  azure  tint  a  lovely  flower,  though  it  is 
a  kinsman  of  the  despised  Petunia. 

How  the  Campanulaceae  enriched  the  beauty  and 
the  blueness  of  the  garden.  We  had  our  splendid 
clusters  of  Canterbury  Bells,  both  blue  and  white. 
I  have  told  elsewhere  of  our  love  for  them  in  child- 
hood. Equally  dear  to  us  was  a  hardy  old  Campan- 
ula whose  full  name  I  know  not,  perhaps  it  is  the 
Pyramidalis;  it  is  shown  on  page  263,  the  very 
plant  my  mother  set  out,  still  growing  and  bloom- 
ing; nothing  in  the  garden  is  more  gladly  welcomed 
from  year  to  year.  It  partakes  of  the  charm  shared 
by  every  bell-shaped  flower,  a  simple  form,  but  an 
ever  pleasing  one.  We  had  also  the  Campanula 
persicifolia  and  tracbeliumt  and  one  we  called  Blue- 
bells of  Scotland,  which  was  not  the  correct  name. 
It  now  has  died  out,  and  no  one  recalls  enough  of 
its  exact  detail  to  learn  its  real  name.  The  showiest 
bell-flower  was  the  Platycodon  grandiflorum^  the  Chi- 
nese or  Japanese  Bell-flower,  shown  on  page  264. 
Another  name  is  the  Balloon-flower,  this  on  account 
of  the  characteristic  buds  shaped  like  an  inflated  bal- 
loon. It  is  a  lovely  blue  in  tint,  though  this  photo- 
graph was  taken  from  a  white-flowered  plant  in  the 
white  border  at  Indian  Hill.  The  Giant  Bell-flower 
is  a  fin  de  siecle  blossom  named  Ostrowskia,  with 
flowers  four  inches  deep  and  six  inches  in  diameter; 


The  Blue  Flower  Border 


263 


it  has  not  yet  become  common  in  our  gardens,  where 
the  Platycodon  rules  in  size  among  its  bell-shaped 
fellows. 


The  Old  Campanula. 


There  are  several  pretty  low-growing  blue  flowers 
suitable  for  edgings,  among  them  the  tiny  stars  of 
the  Swan  River  Daisy  (Er  achy  come  iberidlfolia]  sold 


264 


Old  Time  Gardens 


as  purple,  but  as  brightly  blue  as  Scilla.  The 
dwarf  Ageratum  is  also  a  long-blossoming  soft-tinted 
blue  flower  ;  it  made  a  charming  edging  in  my 

sister's  garden  last  sum- 
mer ;  but  I  should 
never  put  either  of 
them  on  the  edge  of 
the  blue  border. 

The  dull  blue, 
sparsely  set  flowers  of 
the  various  members  of 
the  Mint  family  have 
no  beauty  in  color,  nor 
any  noticeable  elegance; 
the  Blue  Sage  is  the 
only  vivid-hued  one, 
and  it  is  a  true  orna- 
ment to  the  border. 
Prunella  was  ever  found 
in  old  gardens,  now  it 
is  a  wayside  weed. 
Thoreau  loved  the 
Prunella  for  its  blue- 
ness,  its  various  lights, 
and  noted  that  its  color 
deepened  toward  night. 
This  flower,  regarded 
with  indifference  by 
nearly  every  one,  and 
distaste  by  many,  always 
to  him  suggested  coolness  and  freshness  by  its 
presence.  The  Prunella  was  beloved  also  by 


Chinese  Bell-flower. 


The  Blue  Flower  Border  265 

Ruskin,  who  called  it  the  soft  warm-scented  Bru- 
nelle,  and  told  of  the  fine  purple  gleam  of  its  hooded 
blossom  :  "  the  two  uppermost  petals  joined  like  an 
old-fashioned  enormous  hood  or  bonnet ;  the  lower 
petal  torn  deep  at  the  edges  into  a  kind  of  fringe," 
—  and  he  said  it  was  a  "Brownie  flower,"  a  little 
eerie  and  elusive  in  its  meaning.  I  do  not  like  it 
because  it  has  such  a  disorderly,  unkempt  look,  it 
always  seems  bedraggled. 

The  pretty  ladder-like  leaf  of  Jacob's  Ladder  is 
most  delicate  and  pleasing  in  the  garden,  and  its 
blue  bell-flowers  are  equally  refined.  This  is  truly 
an  old-fashioned  plant,  but  well  worth  universal 
cultivation. 

In  answer  to  the  question,  What  is  the  bluest 
flower  in  the  garden  or  field?  one  answered  Fringed 
Gentian  ;  another  the  Forget-me-not,  which  has 
much  pink  in  its  buds  and  yellow  in  its  blossoms  ; 
another  Bee  Larkspur ;  and  the  others  Centaurea 
cyanus  or  Bachelor's  Buttons,  a  local  American  name 
for  them,  which  is  not  even  a  standard  folk  name, 
since  there  are  twenty-one  English  plants  called 
Bachelor's  Buttons.  Ragged  Sailor  is  another 
American  name.  Corn-flower,  Blue-tops,  Blue 
Bonnets,  Bluebottles,  Loggerheads  are  old  English 
names.  Queerer  still  is  the  title  Break-your-spec- 
tacles.  Hawdods  is  the  oldest  name  of  all.  Fitz- 
herbert,  in  his  Boke  of  Husbandry ,  1586,  thus 
describes  briefly  the  plant :  — 

u  Hawdod  hath  a  blewe  floure,  and  a  few  lytle  leaves, 
and  hath  fyve  or  syxe  branches  floured  at  the  top." 


266  Old  Time  Gardens 

In  varied  shades  of  blue,  purple,  lilac,  pink,  and 
white,  Bachelor's  Buttons  are  found  in  every  old 
garden,  growing  in  a  confused  tangle  of"  lytle  leaves  " 
and  vari-colored  flowers,  very  happily  and  with  very 
good  effect.  The  illustration  on  page  258  shows  their 
growth  and  value  in  the  garden. 

In  The  Promise  of  May  Dora's  eyes  are  said  to  be 
as  blue  as  the  Bluebell,  Harebell,  Speedwell,  Blue- 
bottle, Succory,  Forget-me-not,  and  Violets ;  so  we 
know  what  flowers  Tennyson  deemed  blue. 

Another  poet  named  as  the  bluest  flower,  the 
Monk's-hood,  so  wonderful  of  color,  one  of  the 
very  rarest  of  garden  tints ;  graceful  of  growth, 
blooming  till  frost,  and  one  of  the  garden's  delights. 
In  a  list  of  garden  flowers  published  in  Boston,  in 
1828,  it  is  called  Cupid's  Car.  Southey  says  in 
The  Doctor,  of  Miss  Allison's  garden:  "  The  Monk's- 
hood  of  stately  growth  Betsey  called  '  Dumbledores 
Delight,'  and  was  not  aware  that  the  plant,  in  whose 
helmet-  rather  than  cowl-shaped  flowers,  that  busy 
and  best-natured  of  all  insects  appears  to  revel  more 
than  any  other,  is  the  deadly  Aconite  of  which  she 
read  in  poetry."  The  dumbledore  was  the  bumble- 
bee, and  this  folk  name  was  given,  as  many  others 
have  been,  from  a  close  observance  of  plant  habits  ; 
for  the  fertilization  of  the  Monk's-hood  is  accom- 
plished only  by  the  aid  of  the  bumblebee. 

Many  call  Chicory  or  Succory  our  bluest  flower. 
Thoreau  happily  termed  it  "  a  cool  blue."  It  is  not 
often  the  fortune  of  a  flower  to  be  brought  to  notice 
and  affection  because  of  a  poem ;  we  expect  the 
poem  to  celebrate  the  virtues  of  flowers  already 


The  Blue  Flower  Border  267 

loved.  The  Succory  is  an  example  of  a  plant, 
known  certainly  to  flower  students,  yet  little 
thought  of  by  careless  observers  until  the  beautiful 
poem  of  Margaret  Deland  touched  all  who  read  it. 
I  think  this  a  gem  of  modern  poesy,  having  in  full 
that  great  element  of  a  true  poem,  the  most  essen- 
tial element  indeed  of  a  short  poem  —  the  power 
of  suggestion.  Who  can  read  it  without  being 
stirred  by  its  tenderness  and  sentiment,  yet  how 
few  are  the  words. 

"  Oh,  not  in  ladies'  gardens, 

My  peasant  posy, 
Shine  thy  dear  blue  eyes  ; 
Nor  only  —  nearer  to  the  skies 

In  upland  pastures,  dim  and  sweet, 
But  by  the  dusty  road, 

Where  tired  feet 
Toil  to  and  fro, 

Where  flaunting  Sin 
May  see  thy  heavenly  hue, 

Or  weary  Sorrow  look  from  thee 
Toward  a  tenderer  blue." 

I  recall  perfectly  every  flower  I  saw  in  pasture, 
swamp,  forest,  or  lane  when  I  was  a  child ;  and  I 
know  I  never  saw  Chicory  save  in  old  gardens. 
It  has  increased  and  spread  wonderfully  along  the 
roadside  within  twenty  years.  By  tradition  it  was 
first  brought  to  us  from  England  by  Governor 
Bowdoin  more  than  a  century  ago,  to  plant  as 
forage. 

In  our  common  Larkspur,  the  old-fashioned  gar- 
den found  its  most  constant  and  reliable  blue  ban- 


268  Old  Time  Gardens 

ner,  its  most  valuable  color  giver.  Self-sown,  this 
Larkspur  sprung  up  freely  every  year;  needing  no 
special  cherishing  or  nourishing,  it  grew  apace,  and 
bloomed  with  a  luxuriance  and  length  of  flowering 
that  cheerfully  blued  the  garden  for  the  whole  sum- 
mer. It  was  a  favorite  of  children  in  their  floral 
games,  and  pretty  in  the  housewife's  vases,  but  its 
chief  hold  on  favor  was  in  its  democracy  and 
endurance.  Other  flowers  drew  admirers  and  lost 
them  ;  some  grew  very  ugly  in  their  decay  ;  certain 
choice  seedlings  often  had  stunted  development,  gar- 
den scourges  attacked  tender  beauties  ;  fierce  July 
suns  dried  up  the  whole  border,  all  save  the  Lark- 
spur, which  neither  withered  nor  decayed ;  and 
often,  unaided,  saved  the  midsummer  garden  from 
scanty  unkemptness  and  dire  disrepute. 

The  graceful  line  of  Dr.  Holmes,  "  light  as  a 
loop  of  Larkspur,"  always  comes  to  my  mind  as  I 
look  at  a  bed  of  Larkspur ;  and  I  am  glad  to  show 
here  a  "  loop  of  Larkspur,"  growing  by  the  great 
boulder  which  he  loved  in  the  grounds  of  his  coun- 
try home  at  Beverly  Farms.  I  liked  to  fancy  that 
Dr.  Holmes's  expression  was  written  by  him  from 
his  memory  of  the  little  wreaths  and  garlands  of 
pressed  Larkspur  that  have  been  made  so  univer- 
sally for  over  a  century  by  New  England  children. 
But  that  careful  flower  observer,  Mrs.  Wright,  notes 
that  in  a  profuse  growth  of  the  Bee  Larkspur,  the 
strong  flower  spikes  often  are  in  complete  loops  be- 
fore full  expansion  into  a  straight  spire ;  some  are 
looped  thrice.  Dr.  Holmes  was  a  minute  observer  of 
floral  characteristics,  as  is  shown  in  his  poem  on  the 


The   Blue  Flower   Border 


269 


"  Light  as  a  Loop  of  Larkspur." 

Coming   of  Spring,  and   doubtless  saw   this    curious 
growth  of  the  Larkspur. 

Common    annual     Larkspurs    now    are     planted 


270  Old  Time  Gardens 

in  every  one's  garden,  and  deservedly  grow  in 
favor  yearly.  The  season  of  their  flowering  can 
be  prolonged,  renewed  in  fact,  by  cutting  away 
the  withered  flower  stems.  They  respond  well 
to  all  caretaking,  to  liberal  fertilizing  and  water- 
ing, just  as  they  dwindle  miserably  with  neglect. 
There  are  a  hundred  varieties  in  all ;  among 
them  the  "  Rocket-flowered "  and  "  Ranunculus 
flowered"  Larkspurs  or  Delphiniums  are  ever 
favorites.  A  friend  burst  forth  in  railing  at  being 
asked  to  admire  a  bed  of  Delphinium.  "Why  can't 
she  call  them  the  good  old-time  name  of  Larkspur, 
and  not  a  stiflf  name  cooked  up  by  the  botanists."  I 
answered  naught,  but  I  remembered  that  Parkinson 
in  his  Garden  of  Pleasant  Flowers  gives  a  chapter  to 
Delphinium,  with  Lark's-heel  as  a  second  thought. 
"  Their  most  usual  name  with  us,"  he  states,  "  is 
Delphinium."  There  is  meaning  in  the  name :  the 
flower  is  dolphin-like  in  shape.  Of  the  perennial 
varieties  the  Delphinium  brunonianum  has  lovely  clear 
blue,  musk-scented  flowers ;  the  Chinese  or  Branch- 
ing Larkspur  is  of  varied  blue  tints  and  tall  growth, 
and  blooms  from  midsummer  until  frost.  And  love- 
liest of  all,  an  old  garden  favorite,  the  purely  blue 
Bee  Larkspur,  with  a  bee  in  the  heart  of  each 
blossom.  In  an  ancient  garden  in  Deerfield  I  saw 
this  year  a  splendid  group  of  plants  of  the  old  Del- 
phinium Belladonna :  it  is  a  weak-kneed,  weak-backed 
thing ;  but  give  it  unobtrusive  crutches  and  busks 
and  backboards  (in  their  garden  equivalents),  and  its 
incomparable  blue  will  reward  your  care.  There  is 
something  singular  in  the  blue  of  Larkspur.  Even 


The  Blue  Flower  Border  271 

on  a  dark  night  you  can  see  it  showing  a  distinct 
blue  in  the  garden  like  a  blue  lambent  flame. 

"  Larkspur  lifting  turquoise  spires 
Bluer  than  the  sorcerer's  fires." 

Mrs.  Milne-Home  says  her  old  Scotch  gardener 
called  the  white  Delphinium  Elijah's  Chariot  —  a 
resounding,  stately  title.  Helmet-flower  is  another 
name.  I  think  the  Larkspur  Border,  and  the  Blue 
Border  both  gain  if  a  few  plants  of  the  pure  white 
Delphinium,  especially  the  variety  called  the  Em- 
peror, bloom  by  the  blue  flowers.  In  our  garden 
the  common  blue  Larkspur  loves  to  blossom  by 
the  side  of  the  white  Phlox.  A  bit  of  the  border  is 
shown  on  page  162.  In  another  corner  of  the  gar- 
den the  pink  and  lilac  Larkspur  should  be  grown  ; 
for  their  tints,  running  into  blue,  are  as  varied  as 
those  of  an  opal. 

I  have  never  seen  the  wild  Larkspur  which  grows 
so  plentifully  in  our  middle  Southern  states ;  but  I 
have  seen  expanses  of  our  common  garden  Lark- 
spur which  has  run  wild.  Nor  have  I  seen  the 
glorious  fields  of  Wyoming  Larkspur,  so  poisonous 
to  cattle ;  nor  the  magnificent  Larkspur,  eight  feet 
high,  described  so  radiantly  to  us  by  John  Muir, 
which  blues  those  wonders  of  nature,  the  hanging 
meadow  gardens  of  California. 

I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  Lobelia  is  the  least 
pleasing  blue  flower  that  blossoms.  I  never  see  it 
in  any  place  or  juxtaposition  that  it  satisfies  me. 
When  you  take  a  single  flower  of  it  in  your  hand, 
its  single  little  delicate  bloom  is  really  just  as  pretty 


272  Old  Time  Gardens 

as  Blue-eyed  Grass,  or  Innocence,  or  Scilla,  and  the 
whole  plant  regarded  closely  by  itself  isn't  at  all  bad  ; 
but  whenever  and  wherever  you  find  it  growing  in 
a  garden,  you  never  want  it  in  that  place,  and  you 
shift  it  here  and  there.  I  am  convinced  that  the 
Lobelia  is  simply  impossible  ;  it  is  an  alien,  wrong  in 
some  subtle  way  in  tint,  in  habit  of  growth,  in  time 
of  blooming.  The  last  time  I  noted  it  in  any  large 
garden  planting,  it  was  set  around  the  roots  of  some 
standard  Rose  bushes ;  and  the  gardener  had  dis- 
played some  thought  about  it ;  it  was  only  at  the 
base  of  white  or  cream-yellow  Roses  ;  but  it  still 
was  objectionable.  I  think  I  would  exterminate 
Lobelia  if  I  could,  banish  it  and  forget  it.  In  the 
minds  of  many  would  linger  a  memory  of  certain 
ornate  garden  vases,  each  crowded  with  a  Pandanus-y 
plant,  a  pink  Begonia,  a  scarlet  double  Geranium,  a 
purple  Verbena  or  a  crimson  Petunia,  all  gracefully 
entwined  with  Nasturtiums  and  Lobelia  —  while 
these  folks  lived,  the  Lobelia  would  not  be  for- 
gotten. 

You  will  have  some  curious  experiences  with  your 
Blue  Border  ;  kindly  friends,  pleased  with  its  beauty 
or  novelty,  will  send  to  you  plants  and  seeds  to  add 
to  its  variety  of  form  "  another  bright  blue  flower." 
You  will  usually  find  you  have  added  variety  of  tint 
as  well,  ranging  into  crimson  and  deep  purple,  for 
color  blindness  is  far  more  general  than  is  thought. 

The  loveliest  blue  flowers  are  the  wild  ones  of 
fields  and  meadows ;  therefore  the  poor,  says  Al- 
phonse  Karr,  with  these  and  the  blue  of  the  sky 
have  the  best  and  the  most  of  all  blueness.  Yet 


The  Blue  Flower  Border  273 

we  are  constantly  hearing  folks  speak  of  the  lack 
of  the  color  blue  among  wild  flowers,  which  always 
surprises  me ;  I  suppose  I  see  blue  because  I  love 
blue.  In  pure  cobalt  tint  it  is  rare ;  in  compensa- 
tion, when  it  does  abound,  it  makes  a  permanent 
imprint  on  our  vision,  which  never  vanishes.  Re- 
calling in  midwinter  the  expanses  of  color  in  sum- 
mer waysides,  I  do  not  see  them  white  with  Daisies, 
or  yellow  with  Goldenrod,  but  they  are  in  my  mind's 
vision  brightly,  beautifully  blue.  One  special  scene 
is  the  blue  of  Fringed  Gentians,  on  a  sunny  October 
day,  on  a  rocky  hill  road  in  Royalston,  Massachu- 
setts, where  they  sprung  up,  wide  open,  a  solid  mass 
of  blue,  from  stone  wall  to  stone  wall,  with  scarcely 
a  wheel  rut  showing  among  them.  Even  thus,  grow- 
ing in  as  lavish  abundance  as  any  weed,  the  Fringed 
Gentian  still  preserved  in  collective  expanse,  its  deli- 
cate, its  distinctly  aristocratic  bearing. 
Bryant  asserts  of  this  flower  :  — 

"Thou  waitest  late,  and  com'st  alone 

When  woods  are  bare,  and  birds  are  flown." 

But  by  this  roadside  the  woods  were  far  from  bare. 
Many  Asters,  especially  the  variety  I  call  Michael- 
mas Daisies,  Goldenrod,  Butter-and-eggs,  Turtle 
Head,  and  other  flowers,  were  in  ample  bloom. 
And  the  same  conditions  of  varied  flower  com- 
panionship existed  when  I  saw  the  Fringed  Gentian 
blooming  near  Bryant's  own  home  at  Cummington. 
Another  vast  field  of  blue,  ever  living  in  my 
memory,  was  that  of  the  Viper's  Bugloss,  which  I 


274 


Old  Time  Gardens 


viewed  with  surprise  and  delight  from  the  platform  of 
a  train,  returning  from  the  Columbian  Exposition  ; 
when  I  asked  a  friendly  brakeman  what  the  flower 
was  called,  he  answered  "  Vilets,"  as  nearly  all  work- 

ingmen  confi- 
dently name 
every  blue 
flower ;  and  he 
sprang  from  the 
train  while  the 
locomotive  was 
swallowing 
water,  and 
brought  to  me 
a  great  armful 
of  blueness.  I 
am  not  wont 
to  like  new 
flowers  as  well 
as  my  child- 
hood's friends, 
but  I  found 
this  new  friend, 
the  Viper's  Bu- 
gloss,  a  very 
welcome  and 
pleasing  ac- 
quaintance. Curious,  too,  it  is,  with  the  red  anthers 
exserted  beyond  the  bright  blue  corolla,  giving  the 
field,  when  the  wind  blew  across  it,  a  new  aspect 
and  tint,  something  like  a  red  and  blue  changeable 
silk.  The  Viper's  Bugloss  seems  to  have  the  perva- 


Viper's  Bugloss. 


The  Blue  Flower  Border  275 

sive  power  of  many  another  blue  and  purple  flower, 
Lupine,  Iris,  Innocence,  Grape  Hyacinth,  Vervain, 
Aster,  Spiked  Loosestrife ;  it  has  become  in  many 
states  a  tiresome  weed.  On  the  Esopus  Creek 
(which  runs  into  the  Hudson  River)  and  adown  the 
Hudson,  acre  after  acre  of  meadow  and  field  by  the 
waterside  are  vivid  with  its  changeable  hues,  and 
the  New  York  farmers'  fields  are  overrun  by  the 
newcomer. 

I  have  seen  the  Viper's  Bugloss  often  since  that 
day  on  the  railroad  train,  now  that  I  know  it,  and 
think  of  it.  Thoreau  noted  the  fact  that  in  a  large 
sense  we  find  only  what  we  look  for.  And  he  de- 
fined well  our  powers  of  perception  when  he  said  that 
many  an  object  will  not  be  seen,  even  when  it  comes 
within  the  range  of  our  visual  ray,  because  it  does 
not  come  within  the  range  of  our  intellectual  ray. 

Last  spring,  having  to  spend  a  tiresome  day  riding 
the  length  of  Long  Island,  I  beguiled  the  hours  by 
taking  with  me  Thoreau's  Summer  to  compare  his 
notes  of  blossomings  with  those  we  passed.  It  was 
June  5,  and  I  read:  — 

"The  Lupine  is  now  in  its  glory.  It  is  the  more  im- 
portant because  it  occurs  in  such  extensive  patches,  even  an 
acre  or  more  together.  ...  It  paints  a  whole  hillside  with 
its  blue,  making  such  a  field,  if  not  a  meadow,  as  Proser- 
pine might  have  wandered  in.  Its  leaf  was  made  to  be 
covered  with  dewdrops.  I  am  quite  excited  by  this  pros- 
pect of  blue  flowers  in  clumps,  with  narrow  intervals  ;  such 
a  profusion  of  the  heavenly,  the  Elysian  color,  as  if  these 
were  the  Elysian  Fields.  That  is  the  value  of  the  Lupine. 
The  earth  is  blued  with  it.  .  .  .  You  may  have  passed 


276 


Old  Time  Gardens 


here  a  fortnight  ago  and  the  field  was  comparatively  barren. 
Now  you  come,  and  these  glorious  redeemers  appear  to  have 
flashed  out  here  all  at  once.  Who  plants  the  seeds  of  Lu- 
pines in  the  barren  soil  ?  Who  watereth  the  Lupines  in 
the  field  ? " 


The  Precision  of  Leaf  and  Flower  of  Lupine. 

I  looked  from  a  car  window,  and  lo  !  the  Long 
Island  Railroad  ran  also  through  an  Elysian  Field 
of  Lupines,  nay,  we  sailed  a  swift  course  through  a 
summer  sea  of  blueness,  and  I  seem  to  see  it  still, 
with  its  prim  precision  of  outline  and  growth  of 
both  leaf  and  flower.  The  Lupine  is  beautiful  in 
the  garden  border  as  it  is  in  the  landscape,  whether 
the  blossom  be  blue,  yellow,  or  white. 

Thoreau  was  the  slave  of  color,  but  he  was  the 
master  of  its  description.  He  was  as  sensitive  as 
Keats  to  the  charm  of  blue,  and  left  many  records 
of  his  love,  such  as  the  paragraphs  above  quoted. 


The  Blue  Flower  Border  277 

He  noted  with  delight  the  abundance  of"  that  prin- 
ciple which  gives  the  air  its  azure  color,  which  makes 
the  distant  hills  and  meadows  appear  blue,"  the 
"great  blue  presence"  of  Monadnock  and  Wachusett 
with  its  "far  blue  eye."  He  loved  Lowell's 

"  Sweet  atmosphere  of  hazy  blue, 
So  leisurely,  so  soothing,  so  forgiving, 
That  sometimes  makes  New  England  fit  for  living." 

He  revelled  in  the  blue  tints  of  water,  of  snow,  of 
ice  ;  in  "  the  blueness  and  softness  of  a  mild  winter 
day."  The  constant  blueness  of  the  sky  at  night 
thrilled  him  with  "an  everlasting  surprise,"  as  did 
the  blue  shadows  within  the  woods  and  the  blueness 
of  distant  woods.  How  he  would  have  rejoiced  in 
Monet's  paintings,  how  true  he  would  have  found 
their  tones.  He  even  idealized  blueberries,  "  a  very 
innocent  ambrosial  taste,  as  if  made  of  ether  itself,  as 
they  are  colored  with  it." 

Thoreau  was  ever  ready  in  thought  of  Proserpina 
gathering  flowers.  He  offers  to  her  the  Lupine,  the 
Blue-eyed  Grass,  and  the  Tufted  Vetch,  "blue,  in- 
clining in  spots  to  purple  " ;  it  affected  him  deeply 
to  see  such  an  abundance  of  blueness  in  the  grass. 
"  Celestial  color,  I  see  it  afar  in  masses  on  the  hill- 
side near  the  meadow  —  so  much  blue." 

I  usually  join  with  Thoreau  in  his  flower  loves ; 
but  I  cannot  understand  his  feeling  toward  the  blue 
Flag;  that,  after  noting  the  rich  fringed  recurved 
parasols  over  its  anthers,  and  its  exquisite  petals,  that 
he  could  say  it  is  "a  little  too  showy  and  gaudy, 
like  some  women's  bonnets."  I  note  that  when- 


278  Old  Time  Gardens 

ever  he  compares  flowers  to  women  it  is  in  no  flatter- 
ing humor  to  either;  which  is,  perhaps,  what  we 
expect  from  a  man  who  chose  to  be  a  bachelor  and 
a  hermit.  His  love  of  obscure  and  small  flowers 
might  explain  his  sentiment  toward  the  radiant  and 
dominant  blue  Flag. 

The  most  valued  flower  of  my  childhood,  outside 
the  garden,  was  a  little  sister  of  the  Iris  —  the  Blue- 
eyed  Grass.  To  find  it  blooming  was  a  triumph,  for 
it  was  not  very  profuse  of  growth  near  my  home ; 
to  gather  it  a  delight;  why,  I  know  not,  since  the 
tiny  blooms  promptly  closed  and  withered  as  soon 
as  we  held  them  in  our  warm  little  hands.  Colonel 
Higginson  writes  wittily  of  the  Blue-eyed  Grass, 
"  It  has  such  an  annoying  way  of  shutting  up  its 
azure  orbs  the  moment  you  gather  it ;  and  you 
reach  home  with  a  bare  stiff  blade  which  deserves 
no  better  name  than  Sisyrincbium  anceps." 

The  only  time  I  ever  played  truant  was  to  run  off 
one  June  morning  to  find  "  the  starlike  gleam  amid 
the  grass  and  dew  "  ;  to  pick  Blue-eyed  Grass  in  a 
field  to  which  I  was  conducted  by  another  naughty 
girl.  I  was  simple  enough  to  come  home  at  mid- 
day with  my  hands  full  of  the  stiff  blades  and  tightly 
closed  blooms ;  and  at  my  mother's  inquiry  as  to 
my  acquisition  of  these  treasures,  I  promptly  burst 
into  tears.  I  was  then  told,  in  impressive  phrase- 
ology adapted  to  my  youthful  comprehension,  and 
with  the  flowers  as  eloquent  proof,  that  all  stolen 
pleasures  were  ever  like  my  coveted  flowers,  with- 
ered and  unsightly  as  soon  as  gathered  —  which  my 
mother  believed  was  true. 


The  Blue  Flower  Border  279 

The  blossoms  of  this  little  Iris  seem  to  lie  on  the 
surface  of  the  grass  like  a  froth  of  blueness ;  they 
gaze  up  at  the  sky  with  a  sort  of  intimacy  as  if  they 
were  a  part  of  it.  Thoreau  called  it  an  "  air  of  easy 
sympathy."  The  slightest  clouding  or  grayness  of 
atmosphere  makes  them  turn  away  and  close. 

The  naming  of  Proserpina  leads  me  to  say  this: 
that  to  grow  in  love  and  knowledge  of  flowers,  and 
above  all  of  blue  flowers,  you  must  read  Ruskin's 
Proserpina.  It  is  a  book  of  botany,  of  studies  of 
plants,  but  begemmed  with  beautiful  sentences  and 
thoughts  and  expressions,  with  lessons  of  pleasant- 
ness which  you  can  never  forget,  of  pictures  which 
you  never  cease  to  see,  such  sentences  and  pictures 
as  this  :  — 

"  Rome.  My  father's  Birthday.  I  found  the  loveliest 
blue  Asphodel  I  ever  saw  in  my  life  in  the  fields  beyond 
Monte  Mario — a  spire  two  feet  high,  of  more  than  two 
hundred  stars,  the  stalks  of  them  all  deep  blue  as  well  as 
the  flowers.  Heaven  send  all  honest  people  the  gathering 
of  the  like,  in  the  Elysian  Fields,  some  day  !  " 

Oh,  the  power  of  written  words  !  when  by  these 
few  lines  I  can  carry  forever  in  my  inner  vision  this 
spire  of  starry  blueness.  To  that  writer,  now  in  the 
Elysian  Fields,  an  honest  teacher  if  ever  one  lived, 
I  send  my  thanks  for  this  beautiful  vision  of  blue- 
ness. 


CHAPTER    XII 

PLANT    NAMES 

"The  fascination  of  plant  names  is  founded  on  two  instincts, — 
love  of  Nature  and  curiosity  about  Language." 

—  English  Plant  Names,  REV.  JOHN  EARLE,  1880. 

ERBAL  magic  is  the  subtle  mys- 
terious power  of  certain  words. 
This  power  may  come  from  asso- 
ciation with  the  senses ;  thus  I 
have  distinct  sense  of  stimulation 
in  the  word  scarlet,  and  pleasure 
in  the  words  lucid  and  liquid. 
The  word  garden  is  a  never  ceasing  delight ;  it  seems 
to  me  Oriental ;  perhaps  I  have  a  transmitted  sense 
from  my  grandmother  Eve  of  the  Garden  of  Eden. 
I  like  the  words,  a  Garden  of  Olives,  a  Garden  of 
Herbs,  the  Garden  of  the  Gods,  a  Garden  enclosed, 
Philosophers  of  the  Garden,  the  Garden  of  the  Lord. 
As  I  have  written  on  gardens,  and  thought  on  gar- 
dens, and  walked  in  gardens,  "  the  very  music  of 
the  name  has  gone  into  my  being."  How  beautiful 
are  Cardinal  Newman's  words  :  — 

"  By  a  garden   is  meant   mystically  a   place  of  spiritual 
repose,  stillness,  peace,  refreshment,  delight." 

There  was,  in  Gerarde's  day,  no  fixed   botanical 
nomenclature  of  any  of  the  parts  or  attributes  of  a 
280 


Plant  Names 


281 


The  Garden's  Friend. 

plant.  Without  using  botanical  terms,  try  to  de- 
scribe a  plant  so  as  to  give  an  exact  notion  of  it  to  a 
person  who  has  never  seen  it,  then  try  to  find  com- 
mon words  to  describe  hundreds  of  plants ;  you 
will  then  admire  the  vocabulary  of  the  old  herbalist, 
his  "  fresh  English  words,"  for  you  will  find  that  it 
needs  the  most  dextrous  use  of  words  to  convey  accu- 


282  Old  Time  Gardens 

rately  the  figure  of  a  flower.  That  felicity  and  facility 
Gerarde  had;  "a  bleak  white  color"  —  how  clearly 
you  see  it !  The  Water  Lily  had  "  great  round  leaves 
like  a  buckler."  The  Cat-tail  Flags  "  flower  and  bear 
their  mace  or  torch  in  July  and  August."  One 
plant  had  "deeply  gashed  leaves."  The  Mari- 
gold had  "fat  thick  crumpled  leaves  set  upon  a  gross 
and  spongious  stalke."  Here  is  the  Wake-robin, 
"  a  long  hood  in  proportion  like  the  ear  of  a  hare, 
in  middle  of  which  hood  cometh  forth  a  pestle  or 
clapper  of  a  dark  murry  or  pale  purple  color." 
The  leaves  of  the  Corn-marigold  are  "  much  hackt 
and  cut  into  divers  sections  and  placed  confusedly." 
Another  plant  had  leaves  of  "  an  overworne  green," 
and  Pansy  leaves  were  "  a  bleak  green."  The  leaves 
of  Tansy  are  also  vividly  described  as  "  infinitely 
jagged  and  nicked  and  curled  with  all  like  unto  a 
plume  of  feathers." 

The  classification  and  naming  of  flowers  was  much 
thought  and  written  upon  from  Gerarde's  day,  until 
the  great  work  of  Linnaeus  was  finished.  Some 
very  original  schemes  were  devised.  The  Curious 
and  Profitable  Gardner,  printed  in  1730,  suggested 
this  plan:  That  all  plants  should  be  named  to  indi- 
cate their  color,  and  that  the  initials  of  their  names 
should  be  the  initials  of  their  respective  colors ; 
thus  if  a  plant  were  named  William  the  Con- 
queror it  would  indicate  that  the  name  was  of  a 
white  flower  with  crimson  lines  or  shades.  "Vir- 
tuous Oreada  would  indicate  a  violet  and  orange 
flower;  Charming  Phyllis  or  Curious  Plotinus  a 
crimson  and  purple  blossom."  S.  was  to  indicate 


Plant  Names 


283 


Black  or  Sable,  and  what  letter  was  Scarlet  to  have  ? 
The  "curious  ingenious  Gentleman  "  who  published 
this  plan  urged  also  the  giving  of  "  pompous  names  " 
as  more  dignified  ;  and  he  made  the  assertion  that 
French  and  Flemish  "  Flowerists  "  had  adopted  his 
system. 


Edging  of  Striped  Lilies  in  a  Salem  Garden. 

These  were  all  forerunners  of  Ruskin,  with  his 
poetical  notions  of  plant  nomenclature,  such  as  this; 
that  feminine  forms  of  names  ending  in  a  (as  Pru- 
nella, Campanula,  Salvia,  Kalmia)  and  is  (Iris,  Ama- 
rylis)  should  be  given  only  to  plants  "  that  are  pretty 
and  good";  and  that  real  names,  Lucia,  Clarissa, 
etc.,  be  also  given.  Masculine  names  in  us  should  be 


284  Old  Time  Gardens 

given  to  plants  of  masculine  qualities,  —  strength, 
force,  stubbornness  ;  neuter  endings  in  um,  given  to 
plants  indicative  of  evil  or  death. 

I  have  a  fancy  anent  many  old-time  flower 
names  that  they  are  also  the  names  of  persons.  I 
think  of  them  as  persons  bearing  various  traits  and 
characteristics.  On  the  other  hand,  many  old  Eng- 
lish Christian  names  seem  so  suited  for  flowers,  that 
they  might  as  well  stand  for  flowers  as  for  persons. 
Here  are  a  few  of  these  quaint  old  names,  Collet, 
Colin,  Emmot,  Issot,  Doucet,  Dobinet,  Cicely, 
Audrey,  Amice,  Hilary,  Bryde,  Morrice,  Tyffany, 
Amery,  Nowell,  Ellice,  Digory,  Avery,  Audley, 
Jacomin,  Gillian,  Petronille,  Gresel,  Joyce,  Lettice, 
Cibell,  Avice,  Cesselot,  Parnell,  Renelsha.  Do  they 
not  "  smell  sweet  to  the  ear  "  ?  The  names  of  flow- 
ers are  often  given  as  Christian  names.  Children 
have  been  christened  by  the  names  Dahlia,  Clover, 
Hyacinth,  Asphodel,  Verbena,  Mignonette,  Pansy, 
Heartsease,  Daisy,  Zinnia,  Fraxinella,  Poppy,  Daf- 
fodil, Hawthorn. 

What  power  have  the  old  English  names  of  gar- 
den flowers,  to  unlock  old  memories,  as  have  the 
flowers  themselves  !  Dr.  Earle  writes,  "  The  fasci- 
nation of  plant  names  is  founded  on  two  instincts  ; 
love  of  Nature,  and  curiosity  about  Language." 
To  these  I  should  add  an  equally  strong  instinct 
in  many  persons  —  their  sensitiveness  to  associa- 
tions. 

I  am  never  more  filled  with  a  sense  of  the  delight 
of  old  English  plant-names  than  when  I  read  the 
liquid  verse  of  Spenser  :  — 


Plant  Names  285 

"Bring  hether  the  pincke  and  purple  Cullembine 

.    .    .    with  Gellifloures, 
Bring  hether  Coronations  and  Sops-in-wine 

Worne  of  paramours. 

Sow  me  the  ground  with  Daffadowndillies 
And  Cowslips  and  Kingcups  and  loved  Lilies, 

The  pretty  Pawnee 

The  Chevisaunce 
Shall  match  with  the  fayre  Flour  Delice." 

Why,  the  names  are  a  pleasure,  though  you  know 
not  what  the  Sops-in-wine  or  the  Chevisaunce  were. 
Gilliflowers  were  in  the  verses  of  every  poet.  One 
of  scant  fame,  named  Plat,  thus  sings  :  — 

"  Here  spring  the  goodly  Gelofors, 

Some  white,  some  red  in  showe  ; 
Here  pretie  Pinks  with  jagged  leaves 

On  rugged  rootes  do  growe  ; 
The  Johns  so  sweete  in  showe  and  smell, 

Distinct  by  colours  twaine, 
About  the  borders  of  their  beds 

In  seemlie  sight  remaine." 

If  there  ever  existed  any  diffe'rence  between  Sweet- 
Johns  and  Sweet-williams,  it  is  forgotten  now. 
They  have  not  shared  a  revival  of  popularity  with 
other  old-time  favorites.  They  were  one  of  the  "  gar- 
land flowers  "  of  Gerarde's  day,  and  were  "  esteemed 
for  beauty,  to  deck  up  the  bosoms  of  the  beauti- 
ful, and  for  garlands  and  crowns  of  pleasure."  In 
the  gardens  of  Hampton  Court  in  the  days  of  King 
Henry  VIII.,  were  Sweet-williams,  for  the  plants  had 
been  bought  by  the  bushel.  Sweet-williams  are  little 


286  Old  Time  Gardens 

sung  by  the  poets,  and  I  never  knew  any  one  to 
call  the  Sweet-william  her  favorite  flower,  save  one 
person.  Old  residents  of  Worcester  will  recall  the 
tiny  cottage  that  stood  on  the  corner  of  Chestnut 
and  Pleasant  streets,  since  the  remote  years  when  the 
latter-named  street  was  a  post-road.  It  was  occu- 
pied during  my  childhood  by  friends  of  my  mother 
—  a  century-old  mother,  and  her  ancient  unmarried 
daughter.  Behind  the  house  stretched  one  of  the 
most  cheerful  gardens  I  have  ever  seen ;  ever,  in  my 
memory,  bathed  in  glowing  sunlight  and  color.  Of 
its  glories  I  recall  specially  the  long  spires  of  vivid 
Bee  Larkspur,  the  varied  Poppies  of  wonderful 
growth,  and  the  rioting  Sweet-williams.  The  latter 
flowers  had  some  sentimental  association  to  the  older 
lady,  who  always  asserted  with  emphasis  to  all  vis- 
itors that  they  were  her  favorite  flower.  They  over- 
ran the  entire  garden,  crowding  the  grass  plot  where 
the  washed  garments  were  hung  out  to  dry,  even 
growing  in  the  chinks  of  the  stone  steps  and  between 
the  flat  stone  flagging  of  the  little  back  yard,  where 
stood  the  old  well  with  its  moss-covered  bucket. 
They  spread  under  "the  high  board  fence  and  ap- 
peared outside  on  Chestnut  Street ;  and  they  ex- 
tended under  the  dense  Lilac  bushes  and  Cedars 
and  down  the  steep  grass  bank  and  narrow  steps  to 
Pleasant  Street.  The  seed  was  carefully  gathered, 
especially  of  one  glowing  crimson  beauty,  the  color 
of  the  Mullein  Pink,  and  a  gift  of  it  was  highly 
esteemed  by  other  garden  owners.  Old  herbals  say 
the  Sweet-williams  are  "  worthy  the  Respect  of  the 
Greatest  Ladies  who  are  Lovers  of  Flowers."  They 


' .    Jim 

^WPHIP^ 


Plant  Names  287 

certainly  had  the  respect  and  love  of  these  two  old 
ladies,  who  were  truly  Lovers  of  Flowers. 

I  recall  an  objection  made  to  Sweet-williams,  by 
some  one  years  ago,  that  they  were  of  no  use  or  value 
save  in  the  garden ;  that  they  could  never  be  com- 
bined in  bouquets,  nor  did  they  arrange  well  in  vases. 
It  is  a  place  of  honor,  some  of  us  believe,  to  be  a 
garden  flower  as  well  as  a  vase  flower.  This  garden 
was  the  only  one  I  knew  when  a  child  which  con- 
tained plants  of  Love-lies-bleeding  —  it  had  even 
then  been  deemed  old-fashioned  and  out  of  date. 
And  it  also  held  a  few  Sunflowers,  which  had  not  then 
had  a  revival  of  attention,  and  seemed  as  obsolete 
as  the  Love-lies-bleeding.  The  last-named  flower 
I  always  disliked,  a  shapeless,  gawky  creature,  de- 
scribed in  florists'  catalogues  and  like  publications  as 
"  an  effective  plant  easily  attaining  to  a  splendid  form 
bearing  many  plume-tufts  of  rich  lustrous  crimson." 
It  is  the  "  immortal  amarant "  chosen  by  Milton  to 
crown  the  celestial  beings  in  Paradise  Lost.  Poor 
angels !  they  have  had  many  trying  vagaries  of 
attire  assigned  to  them. 

I  can  contribute  to  plant  lore  one  fantastic  notion 
in  regard  to  Love-lies-bleeding  —  though  I  can  find 
no  one  who  can  confirm  this  memory  of  my  child- 
hood. I  recall  distinctly  expressions  of  surprise 
and  regret  that  these  two  old  people  in  Worcester 
should  retain  the  Love-lies-bleeding  in  their  garden, 
because  "  the  house  would  surely  be  struck  with 
lightning."  Perhaps  this  fancy  contributed  to  the 
exile  of  the  flower  from  gardens. 

There   be   those  who  write,  and   I   suppose  they 


288 


Old  Time  Gardens 


believe,  that  a  love  of  Nature  and  perception  of  her 
beauties  and  a  knowledge  of  flowers,  are  the  dower 
of  those  who  are  country  born  and  bred ;  by  which 
is  meant  reared  upon  a  farm.  I  have  not  found  this 
true.  Farm  children  have  little  love  for  Nature  and 
are  surprisingly  ignorant  about  wild  flowers,  save  a 


Terraced  Garden  of  the  Misses  Nichols,  Salem,   Massachusetts. 


very  few  varieties.  The  child  who  is  garden  bred 
has  a  happier  start  in  life,  a  greater  love  and  knowl- 
edge of  Nature.  It  is  a  principle  of  Froebel  that 
one  must  limit  a  child's  view  in  order  to  coordinate 
his  perceptions.  That  is  precisely  what  is  done  in  a 
child's  regard  of  Nature  by  his  life  in  a  garden ;  his 


Plant  Names  289 

view  is  limited  and  he  learns  to  know  garden  flowers 
and  birds  and  insects  thoroughly,  when  the  vast  and 
bewildering  variety  of  field  and  forest  would  have 
remained  unappreciated  by  him. 

It  is  a  distressing  condition  of  the  education  of 
farmers,  that  they  know  so  little  about  the  country. 
The  man  knows  about  his  crops,  and  his  wife  about 
the  flowers,  herbs,  and  vegetables  of  her  garden  ; 
but  no  countrymen  know  the  names  of  wild  flowers 
—  and  few  countrywomen,  save  of  medicinal  herbs. 
I  asked  one  farmer  the  name  of  a  brilliant  autumnal 
flower  whose  intense  purple  was  then  unfamiliar  to 
me  —  the  Devil's-bit.  He  answered,  "Them's  Woi- 
lets."  Violet  is  the  only  word  in  which  the  initial  V 
is  ever  changed  to  W  by  native  New  Englanders. 
Every  pink  or  crimson  flower  is  a  Pink.  Spring 
blossoms  are  "  Mayflowers."  A  frequent  answer  is, 
"  Those  ain't  flowers,  they're  weeds."  They  are  more 
knowing  as  to  trees,  though  shaky  about  the  ever- 
green trees,  having  little  idea  of  varieties  and  inclined 
to  call  many  Spruce.  They  know  little  about  the 
reasons  for  names  of  localities,  or  of  any  histor- 
ical traditions  save  those  of  the  Revolution.  One 
exclaims  in  despair,  "  No  one  in  the  country  knows 
anything  about  the  country." 

This  is  no  recent  indifference  and  ignorance;  Susan 
Cooper  wrote  in  her  Rural  Hours  in  1848  :  — 

"  When  we  first  made  acquaintance  with  the  flowers  of 
the  neighborhood  we  asked  grown  persons  —  learned  per- 
haps in  many  matters  —  the  common  names  of  plants  they 
must  have  seen  all  their  lives,  and  we  found  they  were  no 


290 


Old  Time  Gardens 


wiser  than  the  children  or  ourselves.  It  is  really  surprising 
how  little  country  people  know  on  such  subjects.  Farmers 
and  their  wives  can  tell  you  nothing  on  these  matters.  The 
men  are  at  fault  even  among  the  trees  on  their  own  farms, 
if  they  are  at  all  out  of  the  common  way ;  and  as  for 
smaller  native  plants,  they  know  less  about  them  than  Buck 
or  Brindle,  their  own  oxen." 


Kitchen  Dooryard  at  Wilbour  Farm,  Kingston,  Rhode  Island. 

In  that  delightful  book,  The  Rescue  of  an  Old 
Place,  the  author  has  a  chapter  on  the  love  of  flow- 
ers in  America.  It  was  written  anent  the  ever- 
present  statements  seen  in  metropolitan  print  that 
Americans  do  not  love  flowers  because  they  are  used 
among  the  rich  and  fashionable  in  large  cities  for 
extravagant  display  rather  than  for  enjoyment ;  and 
that  we  accept  botanical  names  for  our  indigenous 


Plant  Names  291 

plants  instead  of  calling  them  by  homely  ones  such 
as  familiar  flowers  are  known  by  in  older  lands. 

Two  more  foolish  claims  could  scarcely  be  made. 
In  the  first  place,  the  doings  of  fashionable  folk  in 
large  cities  are  fortunately  far  from  being  a  national 
index  or  habit.  Secondly,  in  ancient  lands  the  peo- 
ple named  the  flowers  long  before  there  were  bota- 
nists, here  the  botanists  found  the  flowers  and  named 
them  for  the  people.  Moreover,  country  folk  in 
New  England  and  even  in  the  far  West  call  flowers 
by  pretty  folk-names,  if  they  call  them  at  all,  just  as 
in  Old  England. 

The  fussing  over  the  use  of  the  scientific  Latin 
names  for  plants  apparently  will  never  cease ;  many 
of  these  Latin  names  are  very  pleasant,  have  become 
so  from  constant  usage,  and  scarcely  seem  Latin  ; 
thus  Clematis,  Tiarella,  Rhodora,  Arethusa,  Cam- 
panula, Potentilla,  Hepatica.  When  I  know  the 
folk-names  of  flowers  I  always  speak  thus  of  them 
—  and  to  them;  but  I  am  grateful  too  for  the  scien- 
tific classification  and  naming,  as  a  means  of  accurate 
distinction.  For  any  flower  student  quickly  learns 
that  the  same  English  folk-name  is  given  in  different 
localities  to  very  different  plants.  For  instance,  the 
name  Whiteweed  is  applied  to  ten  different  plants  ; 
there  are  in  England  ten  or  twelve  Cuckoo-flowers, 
and  twenty-one  Bachelor's  Buttons.  Such  names 
as  Mayflower,  Wild  Pink,  Wild  Lily,  Eyebright, 
Toad-flax,  Ragged  Robin,  None-so-pretty,  Lady's- 
fingers,  Four-o'clocks,  Redweed,  Buttercups,  Butter- 
flower,  Cat's-tail,  Rocket,  Blue-Caps,  Creeping-jenny, 
Bird's-eye,  Bluebells,  apply  to  half  a  dozen  plants. 


292 


Old  Time  Gardens 


The  old  folk-names  are  not  definite,  but  they  are 
delightful ;  they  tell  of  mythology  and  medicine,  of 
superstitions  and  traditions ;  they  show  trains  of 
relationship,  and  associations  ;  in  fact,  they  appeal 
more  to  the  philologist  and  antiquarian  than  to  the 
botanist.  Among  all  the  languages  which  contribute 
to  the  variety  and  picturesqueness  of  English  plant 


"A  running  ribbon  of  perfumed  snow  which  the  sun  is  melting 
rapidly. 

names,  Dr.  Prior  deems  Maple  the  only  one  sur- 
viving from  the  Celtic  language.  Gromwell  and 
Wormwood  may  possibly  be  added. 

There  are  some  Anglo-Saxon  words;  among  them 
Hawthorn  and  Groundsel.  French,  Dutch,  and 
Danish  names  are  many,  Arabic  and  Persian  are 
more.  Many  plant  names  are  dedicatory;  they  em- 
body the  names  of  the  saints  and  a  few  the  names 


Plant  Names  293 

of  the  Deity.  Our  Lady's  Flowers  are  many  and 
interesting;  my  daughter  wrote  a  series  of  articles 
for  the  New  Tork  Evening  Post  on  Our  Lady's 
Flowers,  and  the  list  swelled  to  a  surprising  num- 
ber. The  devil  and  witches  have  their  shares  of 
flowers,  as  have  the  fairies. 

I  have  always  regretted  deeply  that  our  botanists 
neglected  an  opportunity  of  great  enrichment  in 
plant  nomenclature  when  they  ignored  the  Indian 
names  of  our  native  plants,  shrubs,  and  trees.  The 
first  names  given  these  plants  were  not  always 
planned  by  botanists  ;  they  were  more  often  invented 
in  loving  memory  of  English  plants,  or  sometimes 
from  a  fancied  resemblance  to  those  plants.  They 
did  give  the  wonderfully  descriptive  name  of  Moc- 
casin-flower to  that  creature  of  the  wild-woods  ;  and 
a  far  more  appropriate  title  it  is  than  Lady's-slipper, 
but  it  is  not  as  well  known.  I  have  never  found  the 
Lady's-slipper  as  beautiful  a  flower  as  do  nearly  all 
my  friends,  as  did  my  father  and  mother,  and  I 
was  pleased  at  Ruskin's  sharp  comment  that  such  a 
slipper  was  only  fit  for  very  gouty  old  toes. 

Pappoose-root  utilizes  another  Indian  word.  Very 
few  Indian  plant  names  were  adopted  by  the  white 
men,  fewer  still  have  been  adopted  by  the  scientists. 
The  Cat  a/pa  speciosa  (Catalpa)  ;  the  Zea  mays 
(Maize);  and  Yucca  filamentosa  (Yucca),  are  the 
only  ones  I  know.  Chinkapin,  Cohosh,  Hackma- 
tack, Kinnikinnik,  Tamarack,  Persimmon,  Tupelo, 
Squash,  Puccoon,  Pipsissewa,  Musquash,  Pecan, 
the  Scuppernong  and  Catawba  grapes,  are  our  only 
well-known  Indian  plant  names  that  survive.  Of 


294  Old  Time  Gardens 

these  Maize,  the  distinctive  product  of  the  United 
States,  will  ever  link  us  with  the  vanishing  Indian. 
It  will  be  noticed  that  only  Puccoon,  Cohosh,  Pip- 
sissewa,  Hackmatack,  and  Yucca  are  names  of  flower- 
ing plants ;  of  these  Yucca  is  the  only  one  generally 
known.  I  am  glad  our  stately  native  trees,  Tupelo, 
Hickory,  Catalpa,  bear  Indian  names. 

A  curious  example  of  persistence,  when  so  much 
else  has  perished,  is  found  in  the  word  "  Kiskatomas," 
the  shellbark  nut.  This  Algonquin  word  was  heard 
everywhere  in  the  state  of  New  York  sixty  years 
ago,  and  is  not  yet  obsolete  in  families  of  Dutch 
descent  who  still  care  for  the  nut  itself. 

We  could  very  well  have  preserved  many  Indian 
names,  among  them  Hiawatha's 

"  Beauty  of  the  springtime, 
The  Miskodeed  in  blossom," 

I  think  Miskodeed  a  better  name  than  Claytonia  or 
Spring  Beauty.  The  Onondaga  Indians  had  a  sug- 
gestive name  for  the  Marsh  Marigold,  "  It-opens- 
the-swamps,"  which  seems  to  show  you  the  yellow 
stars  "shining  in  swamps  and  hollows  gray."  The 
name  Cowslip  has  been  transferred  to  it  in  some 
localities  in  New  England,  which  is  not  strange 
when  we  find  that  the  flower  has  fifty-six  English 
folk-names ;  among  them  are  Drunkards,  Crazy 
Bet,  Meadow-bright,  Publicans  and  Sinners,  Sol- 
diers' Buttons,  Gowans,  Kingcups,  and  Buttercups. 
Our  Italian  street  venders  call  them  Buttercups.  In 
erudite  Boston,  in  sight  of  Boston  Common,  the 
beautiful  Fringed  Gentian  is  not  only  called,  but 


Plant  Names  295 

labelled,  French  Gentian.  To  hear  a  lovely  bunch 
of  the  Arethusa  called  Swamp  Pink  is  not  so 
strange.  The  Sabbatia  grows  in  its  greatest  profu- 
sion in  the  vicinity  of  Plymouth,  Massachusetts, 
and  is  called  locally,  "  The  Rose  of  Plymouth." 
It  is  sold  during  its  season  of  bloom  in  the  streets 
of  that  town  and  is  used  to  dress  the  churches.  Its 
name  was  given  to  honor  an  early  botanist,  Tibera- 
tus  Sabbatia,  but  in  Plymouth  there  is  an  almost 
universal  belief  that  it  was  named  because  the  Pil- 
grims of  1620  first  saw  the  flower  on  the  Sabbath 
day.  It  thus  is  regarded  as  a  religious  emblem,  and 
strong  objection  is  made  to  mingling  other  flowers 
with  it  in  church  decoration.  This  legend  was 
invented  about  thirty  years  ago  by  a  man  whose 
name  is  still  remembered  as  well  as  his  work. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

TUSSY-MUSSIES 

"  There  be  some  flowers  make  a  delicious  Tussie-Mussie  or 
Nosegay  both  for  Sight  and  Smell." 

— JOHN   PARKINSON,  A  Garden  of  all  Sorts  of  Pleasant  Flowers,  1629. 

|O  following  can  be  more  pro- 
ductive of  a  study  and  love  of 
word  derivations  and  allied  word 
meanings  than  gardening.  An 
interest  in  flowers  and  in  our 
English  tongue  go  hand  in  hand. 
The  old  mediaeval  word  at  the 
head  of  this  chapter  has  a  full 
explanation  by  Nares  as  "A  nosegay,  a  tuzzie-muz- 
zie,  a  sweet  posie."  The  old  English  form,  tussy- 
mose  was  allied  with  tosty,  a  bouquet,  fuss  and  tusk^  a 
wisp,  as  of  hay,  tussock^  and  tutty,  a  nosegay. 
Thomas  Campion  wrote  :  — 

"Joan  can  call  by  name  her  cows, 
And  deck  her  windows  with  green  boughs  ; 
She  can  wreathes  and  tuttyes  make, 
And  trim  with  plums  a  bridal  cake." 

Tussy-mussy  was  not  a  colloquial  word ;  it  was 
found  in  serious,  even  in  religious,  text.  A  tussy- 
mussy  was  the  most  beloved  of  nosegays,  and  was 
often  made  of  flowers  mingled  with  sweet-scented 
leaves. 

296 


Tussy-mussies  297 

My  favorite  tussy-mussy,  if  made  of  flowers, 
would  be  of  Wood  Violet,  Cabbage  Rose,  and  Clove 
Pink.  These  are  all  beautiful  flowers,  but  many 
of  our  most  delightful  fragrances  do  not  come  from 
flowers  of  gay  dress  ;  even  these  three  are  not 
showy  flowers ;  flowers  of  bold  color  and  growth 
are  not  apt  to  be  sweet-scented ;  and  all  flower  per- 
fumes of  great  distinction,  all  that  are  unique,  are 
from  blossoms  of  modest  color  and  bearing.  The 
Calycanthus,  called  Virginia  Allspice,  Sweet  Shrub, 
or  Strawberry  bush,  has  what  I  term  a  perfume  of 
distinction,  and  its  flowers  are  neither  fine  in  shape, 
color,  nor  quality. 

I  have  often  tried  to  define  to  myself  the  scent  of 
the  Calycanthus  blooms  ;  they  have  an  aromatic  fra- 
grance somewhat  like  the  ripest  Pineapples  of  the 
tropics,  but  still  richer;  how  I  love  to  carry  them  in 
my  hand,  crushed  and  warm,  occasionally  holding 
them  tight  over  my  mouth  and  nose  to  fill  myself 
with  their  perfume.  The  leaves  have  a  similar,  but 
somewhat  varied  and  sharper,  scent,  and  the  woody 
stems  another ;  the  latter  I  like  to  nibble.  This 
flower  has  an  element  of  mystery  in  it  —  that  inde- 
scribable quality  felt  by  children,  and  remembered 
by  prosaic  grown  folk.  .Perhaps  its  curious  dark  red- 
dish brown  tint  may  have  added  part  of  the  queer- 
ness,  since  the  "  Mourning  Bride,"  similar  in  color, 
has  a  like  mysterious  association.  I  cannot  explain 
these  qualities  to  any  one  not  a  garden-bred  child ; 
and  as  given  in  the  chapter  entitled  The  Mystery 
of  Flowers,  they  will  appear  to  many,  fanciful  and 
unreal  —  but  I  have  a  fraternity  who  will  understand, 


298 


Old  Time  Gardens 


and  who  will  know  that  it  was  this  same  undefinable 
quality  that  made  a  branch  of  Strawberry  bush,  or  a 
handful  of  its  stemless  blooms,  a  gift  significant  of 
interest  and  intimacy  ;  we  would  not  willingly  give 


Hawthorn  Arch  at  Holly  House,   Peace  Dale,  Rhode  Island. 
Home  of  Rowland  G.  Hazard,  Esq. 

Calycanthus   blossoms  to  a  child  we  did  not  like,  or 
to  a  stranger. 

A  rare  perfume  floats  from  the  modest  yellow 
Flowering  Currant.  I  do  not  see  this  sweet  and 
sightly  shrub  in  many  modern  gardens,  and  it  is 
our  loss.  The  crowding  bees  are  goodly  and  cheer- 
ful, and  the  flowers  are  pleasant,  but  the  perfume  is 
of  the  sort  you  can  truly  say  you  love  it ;  its  aroma 
is  like  some  of  the  liqueurs  of  the  old  monks. 


Tussy-mussies  299 

The  greatest  pleasure  in  flower  perfumes  comes 
to  us  through  the  first  flowers  of  spring.  How 
we  breathe  in  their  sweetness !  Our  native  wild 
flowers  give  us  the  most  delicate  odors.  The  May- 
flower is,  I  believe,  the  only  wild  flower  for  which 
all  country  folk  of  New  England  have  a  sincere 
affection  ;  it  is  not  only  a  beautiful,  an  enchanting 
flower,  but  it  is  so  fresh,  so  balmy  of  bloom.  It 
has  the  delicacy  of  texture  and  form  characteristic 
of  many  of  our  native  spring  blooms,  Hepatica, 
Anemone,  Spring  Beauty,  Polygala. 

The  Arethusa  was  one  of  the  special  favorites  of 
my  father  and  mother,  who  delighted  in  its  exquisite 
fragrance.  Hawthorne  said  of  it :  "  One  of  the  deli- 
catest,  gracefullest,  and  in  every  manner  sweetest  of 
the  whole  race  of  flowers.  For  a  fortnight  past  I 
have  found  it  in  the  swampy  meadows,  growing  up 
to  its  chin  in  heaps  of  wet  moss.  Its  hue  is  a  deli- 
cate pink,  of  various  depths  of  shade,  and  somewhat 
in  the  form  of  a  Grecian  helmet." 

It  pleases  me  .to  fancy  that  Hawthorne  was  like 
the  Arethusa,  that  it  was  a  fit  symbol  of  the  nature 
of  our  greatest  New  England  genius.  Perfect  in 
grace  and  beauty,  full  of  sentiment,  classic  and 
elegant  of  shape,  it  has  a  shrinking  heart ;  the 
sepals  and  petals  rise  over  it  and  shield  it,  and  the 
whole  flower  is  shy  and  retiring,  hiding  in  marshes 
and  quaking  bogs. 

It  is  one  of  our  flowers  which  we  ever  regard 
singly,  as  an  individual,  a  rare  and  fine  spirit ;  we 
never  think  of  it  as  growing  in  an  expanse  or  even 
in  groups.  This  lovely  flower  has,  as  Landor  said 


300  Old  Time  Gardens 

of  the  flower  of  the  vine,  "  a  scent  so  delicate  that 
it  requires  a  sigh  to  inhale  it." 

The  faintest  flower  scents  are  the  best.  You 
find  yourself  longing  for  just  a  little  more,  and 
you  bury  your  face  in  the  flowers  and  try  to  draw 
out  a  stronger  breath  of  balm.  Apple  blossoms, 
certain  Violets,  and  Pansies  have  this  pale  perfume. 

In  the  front  yard  of  my  childhood's  home  grew 
a  Larch,  an  exquisitely  graceful  tree,  one  now  little 
planted  in  Northern  climates.  I  recall  with  special 
delight  the  faint  fragrance  of  its  early  shoots.  The 
next  tree  was  a  splendid  pink  Hawthorn.  What  a 
day  of  mourning  it  was  when  it  had  to  be  cut  down, 
for  trees  had  been  planted  so  closely  that  many 
must  be  sacrificed  as  years  went  on  and  all  grew  in 
stature. 

There  are  some  smells  that  are  strangely  pleasing 
to  the  country  lover  which  are  neither  from  fragrant 
flower  nor  leaf;  one  is  the  scent  of  the  upturned 
earth,  most  heartily  appreciated  in  early  spring.  The 
smell  of  a  ploughed  field  is  perhaps  the  best  of  all 
earthy  scents,  though  what  Bliss  Carman  calls  "  the 
racy  smell  of  the  forest  loam "  is  always  good. 
Another  is  the  burning  of  weeds  of  garden  rakings, 

"  The  spicy  smoke 
Of  withered  weeds  that  burn  where  gardens  be." 

A  garden  "  weed-smother "  always  makes  me 
think  of  my  home  garden,  and  my  father,  who 
used  to  stand  by  this  burning  weed-heap,  raking  in 
the  withered  leaves.  Many  such  scents  are  pleasing 
chiefly  through  the  power  of  association. 


Tussy-mussies 


301 


Thyme-covered  Graves. 

The  sense  of  smell  in  its  psychological  relations 
is  most  subtle  :  — 

"  The  subtle  power  in  perfume  found, 

Nor  priest  nor  sibyl  vainly  learned ; 
On  Grecian  shrine  or  Aztec  mound 
No  censer  idly  burned. 

"  And  Nature  holds  in  wood  and  field 
Her  thousand  sunlit  censers  still ; 
To  spells  of  flower  and  shrub  we  yield 
Against  or  with  our  will." 


Dr.    Holmes    notes    that 
sentiment,  are   most   readily 


memory,   imagination, 
touched    through   the 
tells  of  the  associations  borne 


sense  of  smell.     He 

to  him  by  the  scent  of  Marigold,  of  Life-everlasting, 


of  an  herb  closet. 


302  Old  Time  Gardens 

Notwithstanding  all  these  tributes  to  sweet  scents 
and  to  the  sense  of  smell,  it  is  not  deemed,  save  in 
poetry,  wholly  meet  to  dwell  much  on  smells,  even 
pleasant  ones.  To  all  who  here  sniff  a  little  dis- 
dainfully at  a  whole  chapter  given  to  flower  scents, 
let  me  repeat  the  Oriental  proverb  :  — 

"  To  raise  Flowers  is  a  Common  Thing, 
God  alone  gives  them  Fragrance." 

Balmier  far,  and  more  stimulating  and  satisfying 
than  the  perfumes  of  most  blossoms,  is  the  scent  of 
aromatic  or  balsamic  leaves,  of  herbs,  of  green  grow- 
ing things.  Sweetbrier,  says  Thoreau,  is  thus  "  thrice 
crowned  :  in  fragrant  leaf,  tinted  flower,  and  glossy 
fruit."  Every  spring  we  long,  as  Whittier  wrote  — 

"  To  come  to  Bayberry  scented  slopes, 

And  fragrant  Fern  and  Groundmat  vine, 
Breathe  airs  blown  o'er  holt  and  copse, 
Sweet  with  black  Birch  and  Pine." 

All  these  scents  of  holt  and  copse  are  dear  to  New 
Englanders. 

I  have  tried  to  explain  the  reason  for  the  charm 
to  me  of  growing  Thyme.  It  is  not  its  beautiful 
perfume,  its  clear  vivid  green,  its  tiny  fresh  flowers, 
or  the  element  of  historic  interest.  Alphonse  Karr 
gives  another  reason,  a  sentiment  of  gratitude.  He 
says  :  — 

"Thyme  takes  upon  itself  to  embellish  the  parts  of  the 
earth  which  other  plants  disdain.  If  there  is  an  arid,  stony, 
dry  soil,  burnt  up  by  the  sun,  it  is  there  Thyme  spreads  its 
charming  green  beds,  perfumed,  close,  thick,  elastic,  scat- 


Tussy-mussies  303 

tered  over  with  little  balls  of  blossom,  pink  in  color,  and  of 
a  delightful  freshness." 

Thyme  was,  in  older  days,  spelt  Thime  and  Time. 
This  made  the  poet  call  it  "  pun-provoking  Thyme." 
I  have  an  ancient  recipe  from  an  old  herbal  for 
"  Water  of  Time  to  ease  the  Passions  of  the  Heart." 
This  remedy  is  efficacious  to-day,  whether  you  spell 
it  time  or  thyme. 

There  are  shown  on  page  301  some  lonely  graves 
in  the  old  Moravian  burying-ground  in  Bethlehem, 
overgrown  with  the  pleasant  perfumed  Thyme. 
And  as  we  stand  by  their  side  we  think  with  a  half 
smile  —  a  tender  one  —  of  the  never-failing  pun  of 
the  old  herbalists. 

Spenser  called  Thyme  "  bee-alluring,"  "  honey- 
laden."  It  was  the  symbol  of  sweetness ;  and  the 
Thyme  that  grew  on  the  sunny  slopes  of  Mt. 
Hymettus  gave  to  the  bees  the  sweetest  and  most 
famed  of  all  honey.  The  plant  furnished  physic  as 
well  as  perfume  and  puns  and  honey.  Pliny  named 
eighteen  sovereign  remedies  made  from  Thyme. 
These  cured  everything  from  the  "  bite  of  poysonful 
spidars  "  to  "  the  Apoplex."  There  were  so  many 
recipes  in  the  English  Compleat  Chirurgeon,  and 
similar  medical  books,  that  you  would  fancy  veno- 
mous spiders  were  as  thick  as  gnats  in  England. 
These  spider  cure-alls  are  however  simply  a  proof 
that  the  recipes  were  taken  from  dose-books  of  Pliny 
and  various  Roman  physicians,  with  whom  spider 
bites  were  more  common  and  more  painful  than  in 
England. 


304  Old  Time  Gardens 

The  Haven  of  Health,  written  in  1366,  with  a 
special  view  to  the  curing  of  "  Students,"  says  that 
Wild  Thyme  has  a  great  power  to  drive  away  heaviness 
of  mind,  "  to  purge  melancholly  and  splenetick 
humours."  And  the  author  recommends  to  "  sup 
the  leaves  with  eggs."  The  leaves  were  used  every- 
where "  to  be  put  in  puddings  and  such  like  meates, 
so  that  in  divers  places  Thime  was  called  Pudding- 
grass."  Pudding  in  early  days  was  the  stuffing  of 
meat  and  poultry,  while  concoctions  of  eggs,  milk, 
flour,  sugar,  etc.,  like  our  modern  puddings,  were 
called  whitpot. 

Many  traditions  hang  around  Thyme.  It  was 
used  widely  in  incantations  and  charms.  It  was 
even  one  of  the  herbs  through  whose  magic  power 
you  could  see  fairies.  Here  is  a  "  Choice  Proven 
Secret  made  Known"  from  the  Ashmolean  Mss. 

How  to  see  Fayries 

"  ]£,.  A  pint  of  Sallet-Oyle  and  put  it  into  a  vial-glasse 
but  first  wash  it  with  Rose-water  and  Marygolde- water  the 
Flowers  to  be  gathered  toward  the  East.  Wash  it  until 
teh  Oyle  come  white.  Then  put  it  in  the  glasse,  ut  supra  : 
Then  put  thereto  the  budds  of  Holyhocke,  the  flowers  of 
Marygolde,  the  flowers  or  toppers  of  Wild  Thyme,  the 
budds  of  young  Hazle  :  and  the  time  must  be  gathered 
neare  the  side  of  a  Hill  where  Fayries  used  to  be  :  and 
take  the  grasse  off  a  Fayrie  throne.  Then  all  these  put 
into  the  Oyle  into  the  Glasse,  and  sette  it  to  dissolve  three 
dayes  in  the  Sunne  and  then  keep  for  thy  use  ut  supra." 

"  I  know  a  bank  whereon  the  Wild  Thyme 
blows"  —  it  is  not  in  old  England,  but  on  Long 


Tussy-mussies 


305 


Island  ;  the  dense  clusters  of  tiny  aromatic  flowers 
form  a  thick  cushioned  carpet  under  our  feet.  Lord 
Bacon  says  in  his  essay  on  Gardens  :  — 

"  Those  which   perfume   the  air   most   delightfully,   not 
passed  by  as  the  rest,  but  being  trodden  upon  and  crushed 


"White  Umbrellas  of  Elder." 

are  three  :  that  is,  Burnet,  Wild  Thyme,  and  Water-Mints. 
Therefore  you  are  to  set  whole  alleys  of  them,  to  have  the 
pleasure  when  you  walk  or  tread." 

Here  we  have  an  alley  of  Thyme,  set  by  nature, 
for  us  to  tread  upon  and  enjoy,  though  Thyme 
always  seems  to  me  so  classic  a  plant,  that  it  is  far 
too  fine  to  walk  upon  ;  one  ought  rather  to  sleep  and 
dream  upon  it. 


306  Old  Time  Gardens 

Great  bushes  of  Elder,  another  flower  of  witch- 
craft, grow  and  blossom  near  my  Thyme  bank.  Old 
Thomas  Browne,  as  long  ago  as  1685  called  the  Elder 
bloom  "white  umbrellas  "  —  which  has  puzzled  me 
much,  since  we  are  told  to  assign  the  use  and  knowl- 
edge of  umbrellas  in  England  to  a  much  later  date  ; 
perhaps  he  really  wrote  umbellas.  Now  it  is  a  well- 
known  fact  —  sworn  to  in  scores  of  old  herbals, 
that  any  one  who  stands  on  Wild  Thyme,  by  the 
side  of  an  Elder  bush,  on  Midsummer  Eve,  will 
"  see  great  experiences  "  ;  his  eyes  will  be  opened, 
his  wits  quickened,  his  vision  clarified ;  and  some 
have  even  seen  fairies,  pixies  —  Shakespeare's  elves 
—  sporting  over  the  Thyme  at  their  feet. 

I  shall  not  tell  whom  I  saw  walking  on  my  Wild 
Thyme  bank  last  Midsummer  Eve.  I  did  not  need 
the  Elder  bush  to  open  my  eyes.  I  watched  the 
twain  strolling  back  and  forth  in  the  half-light,  and 
I  heard  snatches  of  talk  as  they  walked  toward  me, 
and  I  lost  the  responses  as  they  turned  from  me. 
At  last,  in  a  louder  voice :  — 

HE.  "  What  is  this  jolly  smell  all  around  here?  Just 
like  a  mint-julep!  Some  kind  of  a  flower?" 

SHE.  "  It's  Thyme,  Wild  Thyme;  it  has  run  into  the 
edge  of  the  lawn  from  the  field,  and  is  just  ruining  the 
grass." 

HE  (stooping  to  pick  it).  "  Why,  so  it  is.  I  thought 
it  came  from  that  big  white  flower  over  there  by  the  hedge." 

SHE.    "  No,  that  is  Elder." 

HE  (after  a  pause).  "  I  had  to  learn  a  lot  of  old 
Arnold's  poetry  at  school  once,  or  in  college,  and  there  was 
some  just  like  to-night :  — 


Tussy-mussies.  307 

" '  The  evening  comes  —  the  fields  are  still, 
The  tinkle  of  the  thirsty  rill, 
Unheard  all  day,  ascends  again. 
Deserted  is  the  half-mown  plain, 
And  from  the  Thyme  upon  the  height, 
And  from  the  Elder-blossom  white, 
And  pale  Dog  Roses  in  the  hedge, 
And  from  the  Mint-plant  in  the  sedge, 
In  puffs  of  balm  the  night  air  blows 
The  perfume  which  the  day  foregoes  — 
And  on  the  pure  horizon  far 
See  pulsing  with  the  first-born  star 
The  liquid  light  above  the  hill. 
The  evening  comes  —  the  fields  are  still.'  " 

Then  came  the  silence  and  half-stiffness  which  is 
ever  apt  to  follow  any  long  quotation,  especially  any 
rare  recitation  of  verse  by  those  who  are  notoriously 
indifferent  to  the  charms  of  rhyme  and  rhythm, 
and  are  of  another  sex  than  the  listener.  It  seems 
to  indicate  an  unusual  condition  of  emotion,  to  be 
a  sort  of  barometer  of  sentiment,  and  the  warning 
of  threatening  weather  was  not  unheeded  by  her ; 
hence  her  response  was  somewhat  nervous  in  utter- 
ance, and  instinctively  perverse  and  contradictory. 

SHE.  "  That  line,  c  The  liquid  light  above  the  hill,'  is 
very  lovely,  but  I  can't  see  that  it's  any  of  it  at  all  like 
to-night." 

HE  (stoutly  and  resentfully}.  "  Oh,  no  !  not  at  all !  There's 
the  field,  all  still,  and  here's  Thyme,  and  Elder,  and  there 
are  wild  Roses  !  —  and  see  !  the  moon  is  coming  up  — 
so  there's  your  liquid  light." 

SHE.  "Well !  Yes,  perhaps  it  is  ;  at  any  rate  it  is  a  lovely 
night.  You've  read  Lavengro  ?  No  ?  Certainly  you 


308  Old  Time  Gardens 

must  have  heard  of  it.  The  gipsy  in  it  says :  l  Life  is 
sweet,  brother.  There's  day  and  night,  brother,  both 
sweet  things ;  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  brother,  all  sweet 
things  ;  there  is  likewise  a  wind  on  the  heath.'" 

HE  (dubiously).  "That's  rather  queer  poetry,  if  it  is  poetry 
—  and  you  must  know  I  do  not  like  to  hear  you  call  me 
brother." 

Whereupon  I  discreetly  betrayed  my  near  presence 
on  the  piazza,  to  prove  that  the  field,  though  still, 
was  not  deserted.  And  soon  the  twain  said  they 
would  walk  to  the  club  house  to  view  the  golf 
prizes ;  and  they  left  the  Wild  Thyme  and  Elder 
blossoms  white,  and  turned  their  backs  on  the  moon, 
and  fell  to  golf  and  other  eminently  unromantic 
topics,  far  safer  for  Midsummer  Eve  than  poesy  and 
other  sweet  things. 


Lower  Garden  at  Sylvester  Manor, 


CHAPTER  XIV 


JOAN    SILVER-PIN 

"  Being  of  many  variable  colours,  and  of  great  beautie,  although 
of  evill  smell,  our  gentlewomen  doe  call  them  Jone  Silver-pin." 

— JOHN   GERARDE,  Herball,  1596. 


ARDEN  Poppies  were  the  Joan 
Silver-pin  of  Gerarde,  stigma- 
tized also  by  Parkinson  as 
"Jone  Silver-pinne,  subauditur ; 
faire  without  and  foule  within." 
In  Elizabeth's  day  Poppies  met 
universal  distrust  and  aversion, 
as  being  the  source  of  the 
dreaded  opium.  Spenser  called  the  flower  "dead- 
sleeping  "  Poppy  ;  Morris  "  the  black  heart,  amorous 
Poppy"  —  which  might  refer  to  the  black  spots  in 
the  flower's  heart. 

Clare,  in    his   Shepherd's    Calendar   also  asperses 
them  :  — 

tf  Corn-poppies,  that  in  crimson  dwell, 

Called  Head-aches  from  their  sickly  smell." 

Forby  adds  this  testimony  :  "  Any  one  by  smelling 
of  it  for  a  very  short  time  may  convince  himself  of 
the  propriety  of  the  name."  Some  fancied  that  the 
dazzle  of  color  caused  headaches  —  that  vivid  scarlet, 
309 


jio 


Old  Time  Gardens 


so  fine  a  word  as  well   as  color  that  it  is  annoying 
to  hear  the  poets  change  it  to  crimson. 

This  regard  of  and  aversion  to  the  Poppy  lingered 
among  elderly  folks  till  our  own  day  ;  and  I  well 
recall  the  horror  of  a  visitor  of  antique  years  in  our 
mother's  garden  during  our  childhood,  when  we 
were  found  cheerfully  eating  Poppy  seeds.  She 
viewed  us  with  openly  expressed  apprehension  that 


"Black  Heart,   Amorous  Poppies." 

we  would  fall  into  a  stupor ;  and  quite  terrified  us 
and  our  relatives,  in  spite  of  our  assertions  that  we 
"  always  ate  them,"  which  indeed  we  always  did  and 
do  to  this  day  ;  and  very  pleasant  of  taste  they  are, 
and  of  absolutely  no  effect,  and  not  at  all  of  evil 
smell  to  our  present  fancy,  either  in  blossom  or  seed, 
though  distinctly  medicinal  in  odor. 

Returned  missionaries  were  frequent  and  honored 
visitors  in  our  town  and  our  house  in  those  days; 
and  one  of  these  good  men  reassured  us  and  rein- 


Joan  Silver-pin  311 

stated  in  favor  our  uncanny  feast  by  telling  us 
that  in  the  East,  Poppy  seeds  were  eaten  everywhere, 
and  were  frequently  baked  with  wheaten  flour  into 
cakes.  A  dislike  of  the  scent  of  Field  Poppies  is 
often  found  among  English  folk.  The  author  of 
A  World  in  a  Garden  speaks  in  disgust  of  "  the  pun- 
gent and  sickly  odor  of  the  flaring  Poppies  —  they 
positively  nauseate  me  "  ;  but  then  he  disliked  their 
color  too. 

There  is  something  very  fine  about  a  Poppy,  in  the 
extraordinary  combination  of  boldness  of  color  and 
great  size  with  its  slender  delicacy  of  stem,  the  grace 
of  the  set  of  the  beautiful  buds,  the  fine  turn  of  the 
flower  as  it  opens,  and  the  wonderful  airiness  of  poise 
of  so  heavy  a  flower.  The  silkiness  of  tissue  of  the 
petals,  and  their  semi-transparency  in  some  colors, 
and  the  delicate  fringes  of  some  varieties,  are  great 
charms. 

Each  crumpled  crepe-like  leaf  is  soft  as  silk  ; 

Long,  long  ago  the  children  saw  them  there, 
Scarlet  and  rose,  with  fringes  white  as  milk, 

And  called  them  '  shawls  for  fairies'  dainty  wear  ' ; 
They  were  not  finer,  those  laid  safe  away 

In  that  low  attic,  neath  the  brown,  warm  eaves." 

And  when  the  flowers  have  shed,  oh,  so  lightly  ! 
their  silken  petals,  there  is  still  another  beauty,  a  seed 
vessel  of  such  classic  shape  that  it  wears  a  crown. 

I  have  always  rejoiced  in  the  tributes  paid  to  the 
Poppy  by  Ruskin  and  Mrs.  Thaxter.  She  deemed 
them  the  most  satisfactory  flower  among  the  annuals 
"  for  wondrous  variety,  certain  picturesque  qualities, 
for  color  and  form,  and  a  subtle  air  of  mystery." 


3 1 2  Old  Time  Gardens 

There  is  a  line  of  Poppy  colors  which  is  most 
entrancing ;  the  gray,  smoke  color,  lavender,  mauve, 
and  lilac  Poppies,  edged  often  and  freaked  with  tints 
of  red,  are  rarely  beautiful  things.  There  are  fine 
white  Poppies,  some  fringed,  some  single,  some 
double  —  the  Bride  is  the  appropriate  name  of  the 
fairest.  And  the  pinks  of  Poppies,  that  wonderful 
red-pink,  and  a  shell-pink  that  is  almost  salmon,  and 
the  sunset  pinks  of  our  modern  Shirley  Poppies, 
with  quality  like  finest  silken  gauze  !  The  story  of 
the  Shirley  Poppies  is  one  of  magic,  that  a  flower- 
loving  clergyman  who  in  1882  sowed  the  seed  of 
one  specially  beautiful  Poppy  which  had  no  black 
in  it,  and  then  sowed  those  of  its  fine  successors, 
produced  thus  a  variety  which  has  supplied  the  world 
with  beauty.  Rev.  Mr.  Wilks,  their  raiser,  gives 
these  simply  worded  rules  anent  his  Shirley  Pop- 
pies :  — 

"  i,  They  are  single;  2,  always  have  a  white  base; 
3,  with  yellow  or  white  stamens,  anthers,  or  pollen  ;  4,  and 
never  have  the  smallest  particle  of  black  about  them." 

The  thought  of  these  successful  and  beautiful 
Poppies  is  very  stimulating  to  flower  raisers  of  mod- 
erate means,  with  no  profound  knowledge  of  flowers  ; 
it  shows  what  can  be  done  by  enthusiasm  and  appli- 
cation and  patience.  It  gives  something  of  the  same 
comfort  found  in  Keats's  fine  lines  to  the  singing 
thrush  :  — 

"  Oh  !  fret  not  after  knowledge. 
I  have  none,  and  yet  the  evening  listens." 


Joan  Silver-pin  313 

Notwithstanding  all  this  distinction  and  beauty, 
these  fine  things  of  the  garden  were  dubbed  Joan 
Silver-pin.  I  wonder  who  Joan  Silver-pin  was  !  I 
have  searched  faithfully  for  her,  but  have  not  been 
able  to  get  on  the  right  scent.  Was  she  of  real  life, 
or  fiction  ?  I  have  looked  through  the  lists  of  char- 
acters of  contemporary  plays,  and  read  a  few  old  jest 
books  and  some  short  tales  of  that  desperately  color- 
less sort,  wherein  you  read  page  after  page  of  the 
printed  words  with  as  little  absorption  of  signification 
as  if  they  were  Choctaw.  But  never  have  I  seen 
Joan  Silver-pin's  name;  it  was  a  bit  of  Elizabethan 
slang,  I  suspect,  —  a  cant  term  once  well  known  by 
every  one,  now  existing  solely  through  this  chance 
reference  of  the  old  herbalists. 

No  garden  can  aspire  to  be  named  An  Old-fash- 
ioned Garden  unless  it  contains  that  beautiful  plant 
the  Garden  Valerian,  known  throughout  New  Eng- 
land to-day  as  Garden  Heliotrope;  as  Setwall  it 
grew  in  every  old  garden,  as  it  was  in  every  pharma- 
copeia. It  was  termed  "drink-quickening  Setuale  " 
by  Spenser,  from  the  universal  use  of  its  flowers  to 
flavor  various  enticing  drinks.  Its  lovely  blossoms 
are  pinkish  in  bud  and  open  to  pure  white ;  its 
curiously  penetrating  vanilla-like  fragrance  is  disliked 
by  many  who  are  not  cats.  I  find  it  rather  pleas- 
ing of  scent  when  growing  in  the  garden,  and  not  at 
all  like  the  extremely  nasty-smelling  medicine  which 
is  made  from  it,  and  which  has  been  used  for  centuries 
for  "  histerrick  fits,"  and  is  still  constantly  prescribed 
to-day  for  that  unsympathized-with  malady.  Dr. 
Holmes  calls  it,  "  Valerian,  calmer  of  hysteric 


Old  Time  Gardens 


Valerian. 


squirms."  It  is  a  stately  plant  when  in  tall  flower  in 
June;  my  sister  had  great  clumps  of  bloom  like  the 
ones  shown  above,  but  alas  !  the  cats  caught  them 


Joan  Silver-pin  315 

before  the  photographer  did.  The  cats  did  not  have 
to  watch  the  wind  and  sun  and  rain,  to  pick  out  plates 
and  pack  plate-holders,  and  gather  ray-fillers  and 
cloth  and  lens,  and  adjust  the  tripod,  and  fix  the 
camera  and  focus,  and  think,  and  focus,  and  think, 
and  then  wait  —  till  the  wind  ceased  blowing.  So 
when  they  found  it,  they  broke  down  every  slender 
stalk  and  rolled  in  it  till  the  ground  was  tamped  down 
as  hard  as  if  one  of  our  lazy  road-menders  had  been 
at  it.  Valerian  has  in  England  as  an  appropriate  folk 
name,  "  Cats'-fancy."  The  pretty  little  annual,  Ne- 
mophila,  makes  also  a  favorite  rolling-place  for  our 
cat ;  while  all  who  love  cats  have  given  them  Catnip 
and  seen  the  singular  intoxication  it  brings.  The 
sight  of  a  cat  in  this  strange  ecstasy  over  a  bunch 
of  Catnip  always  gives  me  a  half-sense  of  fear ;  she 
becomes  such  a  truly  wild  creature,  such  a  miniature 
tiger. 

In  The  Art  of  Gardening,  by  J.  W.,  Gent.,  1683, 
the  author  says  of  Marigolds  :  "  There  are  divers 
sorts  besides  the  common  as  the  African  Marigold, 
a  Fair  bigge  Yellow  Flower,  but  of  a  very  Naughty 
Smell."  I  cannot  refrain,  ere  I  tell  more  of  the 
Marigold's  naughtiness,  to  copy  a  note  written  in 
this  book  by  a  Massachusetts  bride  whose  new  hus- 
band owned  and  studied  the  book  two  hundred  years 
ago  ;  for  it  gives  a  little  glimpse  of  old-time  life.  Jn 
her  exact  little  handwriting  are  these  words  :  — 

"  Planted  in  Potts,  1720:  An  Almond  Stone,  an  Eng- 
lish Wallnut,  Cittron  Seeds,  Pistachica  nutts,  Red  Damsons, 
Leamon  seeds,  Oring  seeds  and  Daits." 


316  Old  Time  Gardens 

Poor  Anne !  she  died  before  she  had  time  to  be- 
come any  one's  grandmother.  I  hope  her  successor  in 
matrimony,  our  forbear,  cherished  her  little  seedlings 
and  rejoiced  in  the  Lemon  and  Almond  trees,  though 
Anne  herself  was  so  speedily  forgotten.  She  is, 
however,  avenged  by  Time;  for  she  is  remembered 
better  than  the  wife  who  took  her  place,  through  her 
simple  flower-loving  words. 

I  am  surprised  at  this  aspersion  on  the  Marigold 
as  to  its  smell,  for  all  the  traditions  of  this  flower 
show  it  to  have  been  a  great  favorite  in  kitchen  gar- 
dens ;  and  I  have  found  that  elderly  folk  are  very 
apt  to  like  its  scent.  My  father  loved  the  flower 
and  the  fragrance,  and  liked  to  have  a  bowl  of  Mari- 
golds stand  beside  him  on  his  library  table.  It  was 
constantly  carried  to  church  as  a  "  Sabbath-day  posy," 
and  its  petals  used  as  flavoring  in  soups  and  stews. 
Charles  Lamb  said  it  poisoned  them.  Canon  Ella- 
combe  writes  that  it  has  been  banished  in  England 
to  the  gardens  of  cottages  and  old  farm-houses;  it 
had  a  waning  popularity  in  America,  but  was  never 
wholly  despised. 

How  Edward  Fitzgerald  loved  the  African  Mar- 
igold !  "  Its  grand  color  is  so  comfortable  to  us 
Spanish-like  Paddies,"  he  writes  to  Fanny  Kemble 
in  letters  punctuated  with  little  references  to  his 
garden  flowers  :  letters  so  cheerful,  too,  with  capi- 
tals;  "  I  love  the  old  way  of  Capitals  for  .Names," 
he  says  —  and  so  do  I;  letters  bearing  two  sur- 
prises, namely,  the  infrequent  references  to  Omar 
Khayyam ;  and  the  fact  that  Nasturtiums,  not  Roses, 
were  his  favorite  flower. 


Joan  Silver-pin  317 

The  question  of  the  agreeableness  of  a  flower 
scent  is  a  matter  of  public  opinion  as  well  as  personal 
choice.  Environment  and  education  influence  us. 
In  olden  times  every  one  liked  certain  scents  deemed 
odious  to-day.  Parkinson's  praise  of  Sweet  Sultans 
was,  "  They  are  of  so  exceeding  sweet  a  scent  as  it 
surpasses  the  best  civet  that  is."  Have  you  ever 
smelt  civet  ?  You  will  need  no  words  to  tell  you 
that  the  civet  is  a  little  cousin  of  the  skunk.  Cow- 
per  could  not  talk  with  civet  in  the  room ;  most  of 
us  could  not  even  breathe.  The  old  herbalists  call 
Privet  sweet-scented.  I  don't  know  that  it  is  strange 
to  find  a  generation  who  loved  civet  and  musk  think- 
ing Privet  pleasant-scented.  Nearly  all  our  modern 
botanists  have  copied  the  words  of  their  predecessors; 
but  I  scarcely  know  what  to  say  or  to  think  when  I 
find  so  exact  an  observer  as  John  Burroughs  calling 
Privet  "  faintly  sweet-scented."  I  find  it  rankly  ill- 
scented. 

The  men  of  Elizabethan  days  were  much  more 
learned  in  perfumes  and  fonder  of  them  than  are 
most  folk  to-day.  Authors  and  poets  dwelt  frankly 
upon  them  without  seeming  at  all  vulgar.  Of 
course  herbalists,  from  their  choice  of  subject,  were 
free  to  write  of  them  at  length,  and  they  did  so  with 
evident  delight.  Nowadays  the  French  realists  are 
the  only  writers  who  boldly  reckon  with  the  sense 
of  smell.  It  isn't  deemed  exactly  respectable  to 
dwell  too  much  on  smells,  even  pleasant  ones  ;  so 
this  chapter  certainly  must  be  brief. 

I  suppose  nine-tenths  of  all  who  love  flower 
scents  would  give  Violets  as  their  favorite  fragrance ; 


318  Old  Time  Gardens 

yet  how  quickly,  in  the  hothouse  Violets,  can  the 
scent  become  nauseous.  I  recall  one  formal  lunch- 
eon whereat  the  many  tables  were  mightily  massed 
with  violets  ;  and  though  all  looked  as  fresh  as  day- 
break to  the  sight,  some  must  have  been  gathered 
for  a  day  or  more,  and  the  stale  odor  throughout 
the  room  was  unbearable.  But  it  is  scarcely  fair  to 
decry  a  flower  because  of  its  scent  in  decay.  Shake- 
speare wrote :  — 

"Lilies  festered  smell  far  worse  than  weeds." 

Many  of  our  Compositae  are  vile  after  standing  in 
water  in  vases  ;  Ox-eye  Daisies,  Rudbeckia,  Zinnia, 
Sunflower,  and  even  the  wholesome  Marigold. 
Delicate  as  is  the  scent  of  the  Pansy,  the  smell  of 
a  bed  of  ancient  Pansy  plants  is  bad  beyond  words. 
The  scent  of  the  flowers  of  fruit-bearing  trees  is 
usually  delightful ;  but  I  cannot  like  the  scent  of 
pear  blossoms. 

I  dislike  much  the  rank  smell  of  common  yellow 
Daffodils  and  of  many  of  that  family.  I  can  scarcely 
tolerate  them  even  when  freshly  picked,  upon  a  din- 
ner table.  Some  of  the  Jonquils  are  as  sickening 
within  doors  as  the  Tuberose,  though  in  both  cases 
it  is  only  because  the  scent  is  confined  that  it  is  cloy- 
ing. In  the  open  air,  at  a  slight  distance,  they  smell 
as  well  as  many  Lilies,  and  the  Poet's  Narcissus  is 
deemed  by  many  delightful. 

I  have  ever  found  the  scent  of  Lilacs  somewhat 
imperfect,  not  well  rounded,  not  wholly  satisfying; 
but  one  of  my  friends  can  never  find  in  a  bunch  of 
our  spring  Lilacs  any  odor  save  that  of  illuminating 


Joan  Silver-pin 


3*9 


gas.  I  do  wish  he  had  not  told  me  this  !  Now 
when  I  stand  beside  my  Lilac  bush  I  feel  like  look- 
ing around  anxiously  to  see  where  the  gas  is  escaping. 
Linnaeus  thought  the  perfume  of  Mignonette  the 
purest  ambro- 
sia. Another 
thinks  that 
Mignonette 
has  a  doggy 
smell,  as  have 
several  flowers; 
this  is  not 
wholly  to  their 
disparagement. 
Our  cocker 
spaniel  is 
sweeter  than 
some  flowers, 
but  he  is  not 
a  Mignonette. 
There  be  those 
who  love  most 
of  all  the  scent 
of  Heliotrope, 
which  is  to  me 
a  close,  almost 
musty  scent. 

I  have  even  known  of  one  or  two  who  disliked 
the  scent  of  Roses,  and  the  Rose  itself  has  been  ab- 
horred. Marie  de'  Medici  would  not  even  look  at 
a  painting  or  carving  of  a  Rose.  The  Chevalier  de 
Guise,  had  a  loathing  for  Roses.  Lady  Heneage,  one 


War  Office." 


320  Old  Time  Gardens 

of  the  maids  of  honor  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  was  made 
very  ill  by  the  presence  or  scent  of  Roses.  This 
illness  was  nc  :  akin  to  "  Rose  cold,"  which  is  the 
baneful  companion  of  so  many  Americans,  and 
which  can  conquer  its  victims  in  the  most  sudden 
and  complete  manner. 

Even  my  affection  for  Roses,  and  my  intense 
love  of  their  fragrance,  zhown  in  its  most  ineffable 
sweetness  in  the  old  pink  Cabbage  Rose,  will  not 
cause  me  to  be  silent  as  to  the  scent  of  some  of  the 
Rose  sisters,  Some  of  the  Tea  Roses,  so  lovely  of 
texture,  so  delicate  of  hue,  are  sickening ;  one  has  a 
suggestion  of  ether  which  is  most  offensive.  "  A 
Rose  by  any  other  name  would  smell  as  sweet,"  but 
not  if  its  name  (and  its  being)  was  the  Persian  Yellow. 
This  beautiful  double  Rose  of  rich  yellow  was  intro- 
duced to  our  gardens  about  1830.  It  is  infrequent 
now,  though  I  find  it  in  florists'  lists  ;  and  I  suspect 
I  know  why.  Of  late  years  I  have  not  seen  it,  but  I 
have  a  remembrance  of  its  uprootal  from  our  garden. 
Mrs.  Wright  confirms  my  memory  by  calling  it  "a 
horrible  thing  —  the  Skunk  Cabbage  of  the  garden." 
It  smells  as  if  foul  insects  were  hidden  within  it,  a 
disgusting  smell.  I  wonder  whether  poor  Marie  de* 
Medici  hadn't  had  a  whiff"  of  it.  A  Persian  Rose  ! 
it  cannot  be  possible  that  Omar  Khayyam  ever  smelt 
it,  or  any  of  the  Rose  singers  of  Persia,  else  their 
praises  would  have  turned  to  loathing  as  they  fled 
from  its  presence.  There  are  two  or  three  yellow 
Roses  which  are  not  pleasing,  but  are  not  abhorrent 
as  is  the  Persian  Yellow. 

One  evening  last  May  I  walked  down  the  garden 


Joan  Silver-pin  321 

path,  then  by  the  shadowy  fence-side  toward  the 
barn.  I  was  not  wandering  in  the  garden  for  sweet 
moonlight,  for  there  was  none ;  nor  for  love  of 
flowers,  nor  in  admiration  of  any  of  nature's  works, 
for  it  wn  very  ccld ;  we  even  spoke  of  frost,  as  we 
ever  :lr  apprehensively  on  a  chilly  night  in  spring. 
Th:  kitten  was  lost.  She  was  in  the  shrubbery  at 
the  garden  end,  for  I  could  hear  her  plaintive  yowl- 
ing; and  I  thus  traced  her.  I  gathered  her  up,  purr- 
ing and  clawing,  when  I  heard  by  my  side  a  cross 
rustling  of  leaves  and  another  complaining  voice.  It 
was  the  Crown-imperial,  unmindful  or  unwitting  of 
my  presence,  and  muttering  peevishly  :  "  Here  I  am, 
out  of  fashion,  and  therefore  out  of  the  world  !  torn 
away  from  the  honored  border  by  the  front  door 
path,  and  even  set  away  from  the  broad  garden  beds, 
and  thrust  with  sunflowers  and  other  plants  of  no 
social  position  whatever  down  here  behind  the  barn, 
where,  she  dares  to  say,  we  *  can  all  smell  to  heaven 
together.' 

"What  airs,  forsooth  !  these  twentieth  century  chil- 
dren put  on  !  Smell  to  heaven,  indeed  !  I  wish  her 
grandfather  could  have  heard  her!  He  didn't  make 
such  a  fuss  about  smells  when  I  was  young,  nor 
did  any  one  else  ;  no  one's  nose  was  so  over-nice. 
Every  spring  when  I  came  up,  glorious  in  my  dress 
of  scarlet  and  green,  and  hung  with  my  jewels  of 
pearls,  they  were  all  glad  to  see  me  and  to  smell  me, 
too ;  and  well  they  might  be,  for  there  was  a  rotten- 
appley,  old-potatoey  smell  in  the  cellar  which  per- 
vaded the  whole  house  when  doors  were  closed. 
And  when  the  frost  came  up  from  the  ground  the 


322  Old  Time  Gardens 

old  sink  drain  at  the  kitchen  door  rendered  up  to 
the  spring  sunshine  all  the  combined  vapors  of  all 
the  dish-water  of  all  the  winter.  The  barn  and  hen- 
house and  cow-house  reeked  in  the  sunlight,  but  the 
pigpen  easily  conquered  them  all.  There  was  an 
ancient  cesspool  far  too  near  the  kitchen  door,  under- 
ground and  not  to  b^  seen,  but  present,  nevertheless. 
A  hogshead  of  rain-water  stood  at  the  cellar  door, 
and  one  at  the  end  of  the  barn — to  water  the  flowers 
with — -  they  fancied  rotten  rain-water  made  flowers 
grow!  A  foul  dye-tub  was  ever  reeking  in  every 
kitchen  chimney  corner,  a  culminating  horror  in 
stenches;  and  vessels  of  ancient  soap  grease  festered 
in  the  outer  shed,  the  grease  collected  through  the 
winter  and  waiting  for  the  spring  soap-making.  The 
vapor  of  sour  milk,  ever  present,  was  of  little  moment 
—  when  there  was  so  much  else  so  much  worse. 
There  wasn't  a  bath-tub  in  the  grandfather's  house, 
nor  in  any- other  house  in  town,  nor  any  too  much 
bathing  in  winter,  either,  I  am  sure,  in  icy  well-water 
in  icier  sleeping  rooms.  The  windows  were  care- 
fully closed  all  winter  long,  but  the  open  fireplaces 
managed  to  save  the  life  of  the  inmates,  though  the 
walls  and  rafters  were  hung  with  millions  of  germs 
which  every  one  knows  are  all  the  wickeder  when 
they  don'c  smell,  because  you  take  no  care,  fancying 
they  are  not  there.  But  the  grandfather  knew 
naught  of  germs  —  and  was  happy.  The  trees 
shaded  the  house  so  that  the  roof  was  always  damp. 
Oh,  how  those  germs  grew  and  multiplied  in  the 
grateful  shade  of  those  lovely  trees,  and  how  mould 
and  rust  rejoiced.  Well  might  people  turn  from  all 


Joan  Silver-pin  323 

these  sights  and  scents  to  me.  The  grandfather  and 
his  wife,  when  they  were  young,  as  when  they  were 
in  middle  age,  and  when  they  were  old,  walked  every 
early  spring  day  at  set  of  sun,  slowly  down  the  front 
path,  looking  at  every  flower,  every  bud ;  pulling 
a  tiny  weed,  gathering  a  choice  flower,  breaking  a 
withered  sprig;  and  they  ever  lingered  long  and 
happily  by  my  side.  And  he  always  said,  *  Wife  ! 
isn't  this  Crown-imperial  a  glorious  plant  ?  so  stately, 
so  perfect  in  form,  such  an  expression  of  life,  and 
such  a  personification  of  spring! '  'Yes,  father,'  she 
would  answer  quickly,  '  but  don't  pick  it.'  Why,  I 
should  have  resented  even  that  word  had  she  referred 
to  my  perfume.  She  meant  that  the  garden  border 
could  not  spare  me.  The  children  never  could  pick 
me,  even  the  naughtiest  ones  did  not  dare  to ;  but 
they  could  pull  all  the  little  upstart  Ladies'  Delights 
and  Violets  they  wished.  And  yet,  with  all  this  fam- 
ily homage  which  should  make  me  a  family  totem, 
here  I  am,  stuck  down  by  the  barn — I,  who  sprung 
from  the  blood  of  a  king,  the  great  Gustavus  Adol- 
phus  —  and  was  sung  by  a  poet  two  centuries  ago  in 
the  famous  Garland  of  Julia.  The  old  Jesuit  poet 
Rapin  said  of  me,  c  No  flower  aspires  in  pomp  and 
state  so  high ' ;  and  then  read  from  the  page  of 
that  master-herbalist,  John  Gerarde,  his  fluent  and 
ample  praise  of  the  rare  beauties  within  my  golden 
cup. 

"  A  very  intelligent  and  respectable  old  gentleman 
named  Parkinson,  who  knew  far  more  about  flowers 
than  flighty  folk  do  nowadays,  loved  me  well  and 
wrote  of  me,  *  The  Crown-imperial,  for  its  stately 


324  Old  Time  Gardens 

beautifulnesse  deserveth  the  first  place  in  this  our 
garden  of  delight  to  be  here  entreated  of  before  all 
other  Lilies.'  He  had  good  sense.  It  was  not  I 
who  was  stigmatized  by  him  as  Joan  Silver-pin.  He 
spoke  very  plainly  and  very  sensibly  of  my  per- 
fume ;  there  was  no  nonsense  in  his  notions,  he  told 
the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth  :  *  The  whole  plant  and  every  part  thereof, 
as  well  as  rootes  as  leaves  and  floures  doe  smell 
somewhat  strong,  as  it  were  the  savour  of  a  foxe, 
so  that  if  any  doe  but  near  it,  he  can  but  smell  it, 
yet  is  not  unwholesome.' 

"  How  different  all  is  to-day  in  literature,  as  well 
as  in  flower  culture.  Now  there  are  low,  coarse  at- 
tempts at  wit  that  fairly  wilt  a  sensitive  nature  like 
mine.  There  is  one  miserable  Man  who  comes  to 
this  garden,  and  who  thinks  he  is  a  Poet ;  I  will  not 
repeat  his  wretcjaed  rhymes.  But  only  yesterday, 
when  he  stood  looking  superciliously  down  upon  us, 
he  said  sneeringly,  'Yes,  spring  is  here,  balmy  spring; 
we  know  her  presence  without  seeing  her  face  or 
hearing  her  voice ;  for  the  Skunk  Cabbage  is  unfurled 
in  the  swamps,  and  the  Crown-imperial  is  blooming 
in  the  garden.'  Think  of  his  presuming  to  set  me 
alongside  that  low  Skunk  Cabbage  —  me  with  my 
'  stately  beautifulness.' 

"  Little  do  people  nowadays  know  about  scents 
anyway,  when  their  botanists  and  naturalists  write 
that  the  Privet  bloom  is  *  pleasingly  fragrant,' 
and  one  dame  set  last  summer  a  dish  of  Privet  on 
her  dining  table  before  many  guests.  Privet !  with 
its  ancient  and  fishlike  smell !  And  another  tells 


Of  the  Hift«rie  of  Pbnts. 


Li** 


Vtt«ul*t*M.  The  Crowne  Imperial!. 


heads  downward  as  it  were  beli  -•  _ 
it  is  ycllowifh  ;-or  to  giue  you  the  I 
lour,  which  by  words  othenvifc  ca 
exp.'elTeJjifyou  lay  fap  berries  fa  I 
6m  water  for  the  fpace  of  twoha 
mix  a  little  Saffron  with  that  infei. 
Jayitvpon  paper,  it  (hewcth  they 

colour  to  limne  or  illumine  the 

withal!.  Thebaekfideofthefaidflourei 
irrcalcd  with  purplifti  lines ,  which  d 
greatly  fee  forth  the  beauty  thereof  .In 
bortomeofeachofthefcbclls-ther   ' 
ccd  fix  drops  of  moft  cleerc  (hiait^ . 
watcr.ii]  tail  lilt  iugar,rcfcmbling  m ) 
fuireOncut,v,r!«,thov,hich6dmo. 
you  take  away,  there  do  tfoawdiMM  I 
peare  the  like  rnotwitl 
maybe  fuffered  to  (land  .;!II  in  the  floi 
according  to  his  owne  nature,  they  will 
uerfallawav.Donotif  you  ftrikc  thepli 
vntill  it  be  broken.  Anwngft  thefedr. 
there  ftandethoutacertaincpcftel^sa 
fundry  fraa!  chares  tipped  with  fmall 
daors  like  thole  of  the  Lilly :  abott 
whole  flotires  there  sro^ves  a  tuft  of  i 
leaueslitethofevplntheftalkebut8 
Icr.  After  the  fioorcs  be  faded,  thcr 

»cfq«,lUVv!1( 


Crown  Imperial.     A  Page  from  Gerarde's   Herball. 


Joan  Silver-pin  325 

of  the  fragrant  delight  of  flowering  Buckwheat  — 
may  the  breezes  blow  such  fragrance  far  from  me  ! 
But  why  dwell  on  perfumes  ;  flowers  were  made  to 
look  at,  not  to  smell ;  sprays  of  Sweet  Balm  or  Basil 
leaves  outsweeten  every  flower,  and  make  no  pretence 
or  thought  of  beauty  ;  render  to  each  its  own  virtues, 
and  try  not  to  engross  the  charm  of  another. 

"  I  was  indeed  the  queen  of  the  garden,  and  here 
I  am  exiled  behind  the  barn.  Life  is  not  worth  liv- 
ing. I  won't  come  up  again.  She  will  walk  through 
the  garden  next  May  and  say, '  How  dull  and  shabby 
the  garden  looks  this  year !  the  spring  is  backward, 
everything  has  run  to  leaves,  nothing  is  in  bloom, 
we  must  buy  more  fertilizer,  we  must  get  a  new  gar- 
dener, we  must  get  more  plants  and  slips  and  seeds 
and  bulbs,  it  is  fearfully  discouraging,  I  never  saw 
anything  so  gone  off! '  then  perhaps  she  will  remem- 
ber, and  regret  the  friend  of  her  grandparents,  the 
Crown-imperial  —  whom  she  thrust  from  her  Garden 
of  Delight." 


CHAPTER   XV 


CHILDHOOD     IN    A    GARDEN 

I  see  the  garden  thicket's  shade 
Where  all  the  summer  long  we  played, 
And  gardens  set  and  houses  made, 
Our  early  work  and  late." 


—  MARY  HOWITT. 

OW  we  thank  God  for  the  noble 
traits  of  our  ancestors ;  and  our 
hearts  fill  with  gratitude  for  the 
tenderness,  the  patience,  the  lov- 
ing kindness  of  our  parents ;  I 
have  an  infinite  deal  for  which  to 
be  sincerely  grateful  ;  but  for 
nothing  am  I  now  more  happy  than  that  there  were 
given  to  me  a  flower-loving  father  and  mother.  To 
that  flower-loving  father  and  mother  I  offer  in  ten- 
derest  memory  equal  gratitude  for  a  childhood  spent 
in  a  garden. 

Winter  as  well  as  summer  gave  us  many  happy 
garden  hours.  Sometimes  a  sudden  thaw  of  heavy 
snow  and  an  equally  quick  frost  formed  a  miniature 
pond  for  sheltered  skating  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
garden.  A  frozen  crust  of  snow  (which  our  winters 
nowadays  so  seldom  afford)  gave  other  joys.  And 
the  delights  of  making  a  snow  man,  or  a  snow  fort, 
326 


Childhood  in  a  Garden  327 

even  of  rolling  great  globes  of  snow,  were  infinite  and 
varied.  More  subtle  was  the  charm  of  shaping  cer- 
tain things  from  dried  twigs  and  evergreen  sprigs, 
and  pouring  water  over  them  to  freeze  into  a  beauti- 
ful resemblance  of  the  original  form.  These  might 
be  the  ornate  initials  or  name  of  a  dear  girl  friend,  or 
a  tiny  tower  or  pagoda.  I  once  had  a  real  winter 
garden  in  miniature  set  in  twigs  of  cedar  and  spruce, 
and  frozen  into  a  fairy  garden. 

In  summertime  the  old-fashioned  garden  was  a 
paradise  for  a  child ;  the  long  warm  days  saw  the 
fresh  telling  of  child  to  child,  by  that  curiously  subtle 
system  of  transmission  which  exists  everywhere 
among  happy  children,  of  quaint  flower  customs 
known  to  centuries  of  English-speaking  children, 
and  also  some  newer  customs  developed  by  the  fit- 
ness of  local  flowers  for  such  games  and  plays. 

The  Countess  Potocka  says  the  intense  enjoy- 
ment of  nature  is  a  sixth  sense.  We  are  not  born 
with  this  good  gift,  nor  do  we  often  acquire  it  in 
later  life ;  it  comes  through  our  rearing.  The  ful- 
ness of  delight  in  a  garden  is  the  bequest  of  a 
childhood  spent  in  a  garden.  No  study  or  posses- 
sion of  flowers  in  mature  years  can  afford  gratifica- 
tion equal  to  that  conferred  by  childish  associations 
with  them ;  by  the  sudden  recollection  of  flower 
lore,  the  memory  of  child  friendships,  the  recalling 
of  games  or  toys  made  of  flowers  :  you  cannot  ex- 
plain it ;  it  seems  a  concentration,  an  extract  of  all 
the  sunshine  and  all  the  beauty  of  those  happy 
summers  of  our  lives  when  the  whole  day  and 
every  day  was  spent  among  flowers.  The  sober 


3*8 


Old  Time  Gardens 


Milkweed  Seed. 


teachings  of  science  in  later  years  can  never  make  up 
the  loss  to  children  debarred  of  this  inheritance,  who 


Childhood  in  a  Garden  329 

have  grown  up  knowing  not  when  "  the  summer 
comes  with  bee  and  flower." 

A  garden  childhood  gives  more  sources  of  delight 
to  the  senses  in  after  life  than  come  from  beautiful 
color  and  fine  fragrance.  Have  you  pleasure  in  the 
contact  of  a  flower  ?  Do  you  like  its  touch  as  well 
as  its  perfume  ?  Do  you  love  to  feel  a  Lilac  spray 
brush  your  cheek  in  the  cool  of  the  evening?  Do 
you  like  to  bury  your  face  in  a  bunch  of  Roses  ? 
How  frail  and  papery  is  the  Larkspur!  And  how 
silky  is  the  Poppy  !  A  Locust  bloom  is  a  fringe  of 
sweetness  ;  and  how  very  doubtful  is  the  touch  of  the 
Lily  —  an  unpleasant  thick  sleekness.  The  Clove 
Carnation  is  the  best  of  all.  It  feels  just  as  it 
smells.  These  and  scores  more  give  me  pleasure 
through  their  touch,  the  result  of  constant  handling 
of  flowers  when  I  was  a  child. 

There  were  harmful  flowers  in  the  old  garden  — 
among  them  the  Monk's-hood;  we  never  touched 
it,  except  warily.  Doubtless  we  were  warned,  but 
we  knew  it  by  instinct  and  did  not  need  to  be  told. 
I  always  used  to  see  in  modest  homes  great  tubs 
each  with  a  flourishing  Oleander  tree.  I  have  set 
out  scores  of  little  slips  of  Oleander,  just  as  I  planted 
Orange  seeds.  I  seldom  see  Oleanders  now ;  I 
wonder  whether  the  plant  has  been  banished  on 
account  of  its  poisonous  properties.  I  heard  of  but 
one  fatal  case  of  Oleander  poisoning  —  and  that  was 
doubtful.  A  little  child,  the  sister  of  one  of  my 
playmates,  died  suddenly  in  great  distress.  Several 
months  after  her  death  the  mother  was  told  that  the 
leaves  of  the  Oleander  were  poisonous,  when  she 


330  Old  Time  Gardens 

recalled  that  the  child  had  eaten  them  on  the  day  of 
her  death. 

Oleander  blossoms  were  lovely  in  shape  and  color. 
Edward  Fitzgerald  writes  to  Fanny  Kemble : 
"  Don't  you  love  the  Oleander  ?  So  clean  in  its 
Leaves  and  Stem,  as  so  beautiful  in  its  Flower ;  lov- 
ing to  stand  in  water  which  it  drinks  up  fast.  I 
have  written  all  my  best  Mss.  with  a  Pen  that  has 
been  held  with  its  nib  in  water  for  more  than  a  fort- 
night—  Charles  Keene's  recipe  for  keeping  Pens  in 
condition  —  Oleander-like."  This,  written  in  1882, 
must,  even  at  that  recent  date,  refer  to  quill  pens. 

The  lines  of  Mary  Hewitt's,  quoted  at  the  begin- 
ning of  this  chapter,  ring  to  me  so  true ;  there  is 
in  them  no  mock  sentiment,  it  is  the  real  thing, — 
"the  garden  thicket's  shade,"  little  "cubby  houses" 
under  the  close-growing  stems  of  Lilac  and  Syringa, 
with  an  old  thick  shawl  outspread  on  the  damp 
earth  for  a  carpet.  Oh,  how  hot  and  scant  the  air 
was  in  the  green  light  of  those  close  "garden- 
thickets,"  those  "  Lilac  ambushes,"  which  were  really 
not  half  so  pleasant  as  the  cooler  seats  on  the  grass 
under  the  trees,  but  which  we  clung  to  with  a 
warmth  equal  to  their  temperature. 

Let  us  peer  into  these  garden  thickets  at  these 
happy  little  girls,  fantastic  in  their  garden  dress. 
Their  hair  is  hung  thick  with  Dandelion  curls,  made 
from  pale  green  opal-tinted  stems  that  have 
grown  long  under  the  shrubbery  and  Box  borders. 
Around  their  necks  are  childish  wampum,  strings  of 
Dandelion  beads  or  Daisy  chains.  More  delicate 
wreaths  for  the  neck  or  hair  were  made  from  the 


Childhood  in  a  Garden  331 

blossoms  of  the  Four-o'clock  or  the  petals  of  Phlox 
or  Lilacs,  threaded  with  pretty  alternation  of  color. 
Fuchsias  were  hung  at  the  ears  for  eardrops,  green 
leaves  were  pinned  with  leaf  stems  into  little  caps 
and  bonnets  and  aprons,  Foxgloves  made  dainty 
children's  gloves.  Truly  the  garden-bred  child 
went  in  gay  attire. 

That  exquisite  thing,  the  seed  of  Milkweed  (shown 
on  page  328),  furnished  abundant  playthings.  The 
plant  was  sternly  exterminated  in  our  garden,  but 
sallies  into  a  neighboring  field  provided  supplies  for 
fairy  cradles  with  tiny  pillows  of  silvery  silk. 

One  of  the  early  impulses  of  infancy  is  to  put  every- 
thing in  the  mouth  ;  this  impulse  makes  the  creeping 
days  of  some  children  a  period  of  constant  watch- 
fulness and  terror  to  their  apprehensive  guardians. 
When  the  children  are  older  and  can  walk  in  the 
garden  or  edge  of  the  woods,  a  fresh  anxiety  arises ; 
for  a  certain  savagery  in  their  make-up  makes  them 
regard  every  growing  thing,  hot  as  an  object  to  look 
at  or  even  to  play  with,  but  to  eat.  It  is  a  relief  to 
the  mother  when  the  child  grows  beyond  the  savage, 
and  falls  under  the  dominion  of  tradition  and  folk- 
lore, communicated  to  him  by  other  children  by 
that  subtle  power  of  enlightenment  common  to  chil- 
dren, which  seems  more  like  instinct  than  instruction. 
The  child  still  eats,  but  he  makes  distinctions,  and 
seldom  touches  harmful  leaves  or  seeds  or  berries. 
He  has  an  astonishing  range  :  roots,  twigs,  leaves, 
bark,  tendrils,  fruit,  berries,  flowers,  buds,  seeds, 
all  alike  serve  for  food.  Young  shoots  of  Sweet- 
brier  and  Blackberry  are  nibbled  as  well  as  the 


332  Old  Time  Gardens 

branches  of  young  Birch.  Grape  tendrils,  too, 
have  an  acid  zest,  as  do  Sorrel  leaves.  Wild  Rose 
hips  and  the  drupes  of  dwarf  Cornel  are  chewed. 
The  leaf  buds  of  Spruce  and  Linden  are  also  tasted. 
I  hear  that  some  children  in  some  places  eat  the 
young  fronds  of  Cinnamon  Fern,  but  I  never  saw  it 
done.  Seeds  of  Pumpkins  and  Sunflowers  were  edi- 
ble, as  well  as  Hollyhock  cheeses.  There  was  one 
Slippery  Elm  tree  which  we  know  in  our  town,  and 
we  took  ample  toll  of  it.  Cherry  gum  and  Plum 
gum  are  chewed,  as  well  as  the  gum  of  Spruce  trees. 
There  was  a  boy  who  used  sometimes  to  intrude  on 
our  girl's  paradise,  since  he  was  the  son  of  a  neigh- 
bor, and  he  said  he  ate  raw  Turnips,  and  some- 
thing he  called  Pig-nuts  —  I  wonder  what  they 
were. 

Those  childish  customs  linger  long  in  our  minds, 
or  rather  in  our  subconsciousness.  I  never  walk 
through  an  old  garden  without  wishing  to  nibble  and 
browse  on  the  leaves  arid  stems  which  I  ate  as  a  child, 
without  sucking  a  drop  of  honey  from  certain  flow- 
ers. I  do  it  not  with  intent,  but  I  waken  to  realiza- 
tion with  the  petal  of  Trumpet  Honeysuckle  in  my 
hand  and  its  drop  of  ambrosia  on  my  lips. 

Children  care  far  less  for  scent  and  perfection  in  a 
flower  than  they  do  for  color,  and,  above  all,  for 
desirability  and  adaptability  of  form,  this  desirability 
being  afforded  by  the  fitness  of  the  flower  for  the  tra- 
ditional games  and  plays.  The  favorite  flowers  of  my 
childhood  were  three  noble  creatures,  Hollyhocks, 
Canterbury  Bells,  and  Foxgloves,  all  three  were 
scentless.  I  cannot  think  of  a  child's  summer  in  a 


Childhood  in  a  Garden 


333 


garden  without  these  three  old  favorites  of  history 
and  folk-lore.  Of  course  we  enjoyed  the  earlier 
flower  blooms  and  played  happily  with  them  ere 
our  dearest  treasures  came  to  us ;  but  never  had  we 
full  variety,  zest,  and  satisfaction  till  this  trio  were 


Foxgloves  in  a  Narragansett  Garden. 

in  midsummer  bloom.  There  was  a  little  gawky, 
crudely-shaped  wooden  doll  of  German  manufac- 
ture sold  in  Worcester  which  I  never  saw  else- 
where ;  they  were  kept  for  sale  by  old  Waxier,  the 
German  basket  maker,  a  most  respected  citizen, 
whose  name  I  now  learn  was  not  Waxier  but  Weichs- 


334  Old  Time  Gardens 

ler.  These  dolls  came  in  three  sizes,  the  five-cent 
size  was  a  midsummer  favorite,  because  on  its  feature- 
less head  the  blossoms  of  the  Canterbury  Bells 
fitted  like  a  high  azure  cap.  I  can  see  rows  of  these 
wooden  creatures  sitting,  thus  crowned,  stiffly  around 
the  trunk  of  the  old  Seckel  Pear  tree  at  a  doll's  tea- 
party. 

By  the  constant  trampling  of  our  childish  feet  the 
earth  at  the  end  of  the  garden  path  was  hard  and 
smooth  under  the  shadow  of  the  Lilac  trees  near 
our  garden  fence  ;  and  this  hard  path,  remote  from 
wanderers  in  the  garden,  made  a  splendid  plateau  to 
use  for  flower  balls.  Once  we  fitted  it  up  as  a 
palace ;  circular  walls  of  Balsam  flowers  set  closely 
together  shaped  the  ball-room.  The  dancers  were 
blue  and  white  Canterbury  Bells.  Quadrilles  were 
placed  of  little  twigs,  or  strong  flower  stalks  set 
firmly  upright  in  the  hard  trodden  earth,  and  on 
each  of  these  a  flower  bell  was  hung  so  that  the 
pretty  reflexion  of  the  scalloped  edges  of  the  corolla 
just  touched  the  ground  as  the  hooped  petticoats 
swayed  lightly  in  the  wind. 

We  used  to  catch  bumblebees  in  the  Canterbury 
Bells,  and  hear  them  buzz  and  bump  and  tear  their 
way  out  to  liberty.  We  held  the  edges  of  the 
flower  tightly  pinched  together,  and  were  never 
stung.  Besides  its  adaptability  as  a  toy  for  children, 
the  Canterbury  Bell  was  beloved  for  its  beauty  in 
the  garden.  An  appropriate  folk  name  for  it  is 
Fair-in-sight.  Healthy  clumps  grow  tall  and  stately, 
towering  up  as  high  as  childish  heads  ;  and  the  firm 
stalks  are  hung  so  closely  in  bloom.  Nowadays 


Hollyhocks  in  Garden  of  Kimball  Homestead,   Portsmouth, 
New  Hampshire. 


Childhood  in  a  Garden,  335 

people  plant  expanses  of  Canterbury  Bells;  one  at 
the  beautiful  garden  at  White  Birches,  Elmhurst, 
Illinois,  is  shown  on  page  in.  I  do  not  like  this 
as  well  as  the  planting  in  our  home  garden  when 
they  are  set  in  a  mixed  border,  as  shown  opposite 
page  416.  Our  tastes  in  the  flower  world  are  largely 
influenced  by  what  we  were  wonted  to  in  childhood, 
not  only  in  the  selection  of  flowers,  but  in  their 
placing  in  our  gardens.  The  Canterbury  Bell  has 
historical  interest  through  its  being  named  for  the 
bells  borne  by  pilgrims  to  the  shrine  at  Canterbury. 
I  have  been  delighted  to  see  plants  of  these  sturdy 
garden  favorites  offered  for  sale  of  late  years  in  New 
York  streets  in  springtime,  by  street  venders,  who 
now  show  a  tendency  to  throw  aside  Callas,  Lilies, 
Tuberoses,  and  flowers  of  such  ilk,  and  substitute 
shrubs  and  seedlings  of  hardy  growth  and  satisfac- 
tory flowering.  But  it  filled  me  with  regret,  to 
hear  the  pretty  historic  name  —  Canterbury  Bells 
—  changed  in  so  short  a  residence  in  the  city,  by 
these  Italian  and  German  tongues  to  Gingerbread 
Bells  —  a  sad  debasement.  Native  New  Englanders 
have  seldom  forgotten  or  altered  an  old  flower  name, 
and  very  rarely  transferred  it  to  another  plant,  even 
in  two  centuries  of  everyday  usage.  But  I  am  glad 
to  know  that  the  flower  will  bloom  in  the  flower 
pot  or  soap  box  in  the  dingy  window  of  the  city 
poor,  or  in  the  square  foot  of  earth  of  the  city 
squatter,  even  if  it  be  called  Gingerbread  Bells. 

I  think  we  may  safely  affirm  that  the  Hollyhock 
is  the  most  popular,  and  most  widely  known,  of  all 
old-fashioned  flowers.  It  is  loved  for  its  beauty, 


336  .     Old  Time  Gardens 

its  associations,  its  adaptiveness.  It  is  such  a  deco- 
rative flower,  and  looks  of  so  much  distinction  in  so 
many  places.  It  is  invaluable  to  the  landscape  gar- 
dener and  to  the  architect ;  and  might  be  named  the 
wallflower,  since  it  looks  so  well  growing  by  every 
wall.  I  like  it  there,  or  by  a  fence-side,  or  in  a 
corner,  better  than  in  the  middle  of  flower  beds. 
How  many  garden  pictures  have  Hollyhocks?  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  even  used  them  as  accessories  of 
his  portraits.  They  usually  grow  so  well  and  bloom 
so  freely.  I  have  seen  them  in  Connecticut  growing 
wild  —  garden  strays,  standing  up  by  ruined  stone 
walls  in  a  pasture  with  as  much  grace  of  grouping, 
as  good  form,  as  if  they  had  been  planted  by  our 
most  skilful  gardeners  or  architects.  Many  illus- 
trations of  them  are  given  in  this  book ;  I  need 
scarcely  refer  to  them  ;  opposite  page  334  is  shown 
a  part  of  the  four  hundred  stalks  of  rich  bloom  in  a 
Portsmouth  garden.  There  is  a  pretty  semidouble 
Hollyhock  with  a  single  row  of  broad  outer  petals 
and  a  smaller  double  rosette  for  the  centre ;  but  the 
single  flowers  are  far  more  effective.  I  like  well  the 
old  single  crimson  flower,  but  the  yellow  ones  are,  I 
believe,  the  loveliest ;  a  row  of  the  yellow  and  white 
ones  against  an  old  brick  wall  is  perfection.  I  can 
never  repay  to  the  Hollyhock  the  debt  of  gratitude 
I  owe  for  the  happy  hours  it  furnished  to  me  in  my 
childhood.  Its  reflexed  petals  could  be  tied  into 
such  lovely  silken-garbed  dolls  ;  its  "  cheeses  "  were 
one  of  the  staple  food  supplies  of  our  dolls'  larder. 
I  am  sure  in  my  childhood  I  would  have  warmly 
chosen  the  Hollyhock  as  my  favorite  flower. 


Childhood  in  a  Garden  337 

The  sixty-two  folk  names  of  the  Foxglove  give 
ample  proof  of  its  closeness  to  humanity ;  it  is  a 
familiar  flower,  a  home  flower.  Of  these  many 
names  I  never  heard  but  two  in  New  England,  and 
those  but  once;  an  old  Irish  gardener  called  the 
flowers  Fairy  Thimbles,  and  an  English  servant, 
Pops  —  this  from  the  well-known  habit  of  popping 
the  petals  on  the  palm  of  the  hand.  We  used  to 
build  little  columns  of  these  Foxgloves  by  thrusting 
one  within  another,  alternating  purple  and  white ; 
and  we  wore  them  for  gloves,  and  placed  them  as 
foolscaps  on  the  heads  of  tiny  dolls.  The  beauty 
of  the  Foxglove  in  the  garden  is  unquestioned ;  the 
spires  of  white  bloom  are,  as  Cotton  Mather  said  of 
a  pious  and  painful  Puritan  preacher,  "a  shining 
and  white  light  in  a  golden  candlestick  improved  for 
the  sweet  felicity  of  Mankind  and  to  the  honour 
of  our  Maker." 

Opposite  page  340  is  a  glimpse  of  a  Box-edged 
garden  in  Worcester,  whose  blossoming  has  been  a 
delight  to  me  every  summer  of  my  entire  life.  In 
my  childhood  this  home  was  that  of  flower-loving 
neighbors  who  had  an  established  and  constant  sys- 
tem of  exchange  with  my  mother  and  other  neigh- 
bors of  flowers,  plants,  seeds,  slips,  and  bulbs.  The 
garden  was  serene  with  an  atmosphere  of  worthy  old 
age ;  you  wondered  how  any  man  so  old  could  so 
constantly  plant,  weed,  prune,  and  hoe  until  you 
saw  how  he  loved  his  flowers,  and  how  his  wife  loved 
them.  The  Roses,  Peonies,  and  Flower  de  Luce 
in  this  garden  are  sixty  years  old,  and  the  Box  also  ; 
the  shrubs  are  almost  trees.  Nothing  seems  to  be 


338  Old  Time  Gardens 

transplanted,  yet  all  flourish  ;  I  suppose  some  plants 
must  be  pulled  up,  sometimes,  else  the  garden  would 
be  a  thicket.  The  varying  grading  of  city  streets 
has  left  this  garden  in  a  little  valley  sheltered  from 
winds  and  open  to  the  sun's  rays.  Here  bloom 
Crocuses,  Snowdrops,  Grape  Hyacinths,  and  some- 
times Tulips,  before  any  neighbor  has  a  blossom 
and  scarce  a  leaf.  On  a  Sunday  noon  in  April  there 
are  always  flower  lovers  hanging  over  the  low  fences, 
and  gazing  at  the  welcome  early  blooms.  Here  if 

ever 

"  Winter,  slumbering  in  the  open  air, 

Wears  on  his  smiling  face  a  dream  of  spring." 

A  close  cloud  of  Box-scent  hangs  over  this  garden, 
even  in  midwinter ;  sometimes  the  Box  edgings 
grow  until  no  one  can  walk  between  ;  then  drastic 
measures  have  to  be  taken,  and  the  rows  look 
ragged  for  a  time. 

I  think  much  of  my  love  of  Box  comes  from 
happy  associations  with  this  garden.  I  used  to  like 
to  go  there  with  my  mother  when  she  went  on 
what  the  Japanese  would  call  "garden-viewing" 
visits,  for  at  the  lower  end  of  the  garden  was  a  small 
orchard  of  the  finest  playhouse  Apple  trees  I  ever 
climbed  (and  I  have  had  much  experience),  and 
some  large  trees  bearing  little  globular  early  Pears ; 
and  there  were  rows  of  bushes  of  golden  "  Honey— 
blob "  Gooseberries.  The  Apple  trees  are  there 
still,  but  the  Gooseberry  bushes  are  gone.  I 
looked  for  them  this  summer  eagerly,  but  in  vain  ; 
I  presume  the  berries  would  have 'been  sour  had  I 
found  them. 


Childhood  in  a  Garden 


339 


In  many  old  New  England  gardens  the  close 
juxtaposition  and  even  intermingling  of  vegetables 
and  fruits  with  the  flowers  gave  a  sense  of  homely 
simplicity  and  usefulness  which  did  not  detract 


Hollyhocks  at  Tudor  Place. 

from  the  garden's  interest,  and  added  much  to  the 
child's  pleasure.  At  the  lower  end  of  the  long 
flower  border  in  our  garden,  grew  "  Mourning 
Brides,"  white,  pale  lavender,  and  purple  brown  in 
tint.  They  opened  under  the  shadow  of  a  row  of 


340  Old  Time  Gardens 

Gooseberry  bushes.  I  seldom  see  Gooseberry 
bushes  nowadays  in  any  gardens,  whether  on  farms 
or  in  nurseries ;  they  seem  to  be  an  antiquated  fruit. 

I  have  in  my  memory  many  other  customs  of 
childhood  in  the  garden  ;  some  of  them  I  have  told 
in  my  book  Child  Life  in  Colonial  Days,  and  there 
are  scores  more  which  I  have  not  recounted,  but 
most  of  them  were  peculiar  to  my  own  fanciful 
childhood,  and  I  will  not  recount  them  here. 

One  of  the  most  exquisite  of  Mrs.  Browning's 
poems  is  The  Lost  Bower ;  it  is  endeared  to  me  be- 
cause it  expresses  so  fully  a  childish  bereavement 
of  my  own,  for  I  have  a  lost  garden.  Somewhere, 
in  my  childhood,  I  saw  this  beautiful  garden,  filled 
with  radiant  blossoms,  rich  with  fruit  and  berries, 
set  with  beehives,  rabbit  hutches,  and  a  dove  cote, 
and  enclosed  about  with  hedges ;  and  through  it 
ran  a  purling  brook  —  a  thing  I  ever  longed  for  in 
my  home  garden.  All  one  happy  summer  after- 
noon I  played  in  it,  and  gathered  from  its  beds  and 
borders  at  will  —  and  I  have  never  seen  it  since. 
When  I  was  still  a  child  I  used  to  ask  to  return  to 
it,  but  no  one  seemed  to  understand  ;  and  when  I 
was  grown  I  asked  where  it  was,  describing  it  in 
every  detail,  and  the  only  answer  was  that  it  was 
a  dream,  I  had  never  seen  and  played  in  such  a 
garden.  This  lost  garden  has  become  to  me  an 
emblem,  as  was  the  lost  bower  to  Mrs.  Browning, 
of  the  losses  of  life ;  but  I  did  not  lose  all ;  while 
memory  lasts  I  shall  ever  possess  the  happiness  of 
my  childhood  passed  in  our  home  garden. 


CHAPTER   XVI 


MEETIN     SEED    AND    SABBATH     DAY    POSIES 

"  I  touched  a  thought,  I  know 
Has  tantalized  me  many  times. 
Help  me  to  hold  it  !     First  it  left 
The  yellowing  Fennel  run  to  seed." 

—  ROBERT  BROWNING. 


Y  "  thought "  is  the  association  of 
certain  flowers  with  Sunday  ;  the 
fact  that  special  flowers  and  leaves 
and  seeds,  Fennel,  Dill,  and 
Southernwood,  were  held  to  be 
fitting  and  meet  to  carry  to  the 
Sunday  service.  "  Help  me  to  hold  it "  —  to  re- 
cord those  simple  customs  of  the  country-side  ere 
they  are  forgotten. 

In  the  herb  garden  grew  three  free-growing  plants, 
all  three  called  indifferently  in  country  tongue, 
"  meetin'  seed."  They  were  Fennel,  Dill,  and  Cara- 
way, and  similar  in  growth  and  seed.  Caraway  is 
shown  on  page  342.  Their  name  was  given  because, 
in  summer  days  of  years  gone  by,  nearly  every  woman 
and  child  carried  to  "  meeting  "  on  Sundays,  bunches 
of  the  ripe  seeds  of  one  or  all  of  these  three  plants, 
to  nibble  throughout  the  long  prayers  and  sermon. 
It  is  fancied  that  these  herbs  were  anti-soporific, 
but  I  find  no  record  of  such  power.  On  the  con- 


342 


Old  Time  Gardens 


trary,  Galen  says  Dill  "  procureth  sleep,  wherefore 
garlands  of  Dill  are  worn  at  feasts."  A  far  more 
probable  reason  for  its  presence  at  church  was  the 
quality  assigned  to  it  by  Pliny  and  other  herbalists 
down  to  Gerarde,  that  of  staying  the  "yeox  or  hicket 
or  hicquet,"  otherwise  the  hiccough.  If  we  can 
judge  by  the  manifold  remedies  offered  to  allay  this 

affliction,  it  was 
certainly  very 
prevalent  in  an- 
cient  times. 
Cotton  Mather 
wrote  a  bulky 
medical  treatise 
entitled  The 
Angel  of  Be- 
thesda.  It  was 
never  printed  ; 
the  manuscript 
is  owned  by  the 
American  Anti- 
quarian Society. 
The  character  of 
this  medico-reli- 
gious book  may  be  judged  by  this  opening  sentence 
of  his  chapter  on  the  hiccough  :  — 

14  The  Hiccough  or  the  Hicox  rather,  for  it's  a  Teutonic 
word  that  signifies  to  sob,  appears  a  Lively  Emblem  of  the 
battle  between  the  Flesh  and  the  Spirit  in  the  Life  of  Pietv 
The  Conflict  in  the  Pious  Mind  gives  all  the  Trouble  and 
same  uneasiness  as  Hickox.  Death  puts  an  end  tc  the 
Conflict." 


Caraway. 


Meetin'  Seed  and  Sabbath  Day  Posies     343 

Parson  Mather  gives  Tansy  and  Caraway  as  reme- 
dies for  the  hiccough,  but  far  better  still  — spiders, 
prepared  in  various  odious  ways ;  I  prefer  Dill. 

Peter  Parley  said  that  "  a  sprig  of  Fennel  was  the 
theological  smelling-bottle  of  the  tender  sex,  and  not 
unfrequently  of  the  men,  who  from  long  sitting  in 
the  sanctuary,  after  a  week  of  labor  in  the  field,  found 
themselves  tempted  to  sleep,  would  sometimes  bor- 
row a  ?prig  of  Fennel,  to  exorcise  the  fiend  that 
threatened  their  spiritual  welfare." 

Old-fashioned  folk  kept  up  a  constant  nibbling 
in  church,  not  only  of  these  three  seeds,  but  of  bits 
of  Cinnamon  or  Lovage  root,  or,  more  commonly 
still,  the  roots  of  Sweet  Flag.  Many  children  went 
to  brooksides  and  the  banks  of  ponds  to  gather 
these  roots.  This  pleasure  was  denied  to  us,  but 
we  had  a  Flag  root  purveyor,  our  milkman's 
daughter.  This  milkman,  who  lived  on  a  lonely 
farm,  used  often  to  take  with  him  on  his  daily 
rounds  his  little  daughter.  She  sat  with  him  on 
the  front  seat  of  his  queer  cart  in  summer  and 
his  queerer  pung  in  winter,  an  odd  little  figure, 
with  a  face  of  gypsylike  beauty  which  could  scarcely 
be  seen  in  the  depths  of  the  Shaker  sunbonnet 
or  pumpkin  hood.  If  my  mother  chanced  to  see 
her,  she  gave  the  'child  an  orange,  or  a  few  figs,  or 
some  little  cakes,  or  almonds  and  raisins ;  in  return 
the  child  would  throw  out  to  us  violently  roots  of 
Sweet  Flag,  Wild  Ginger,  Snakeroot,  Sassafras,  and 
Apples  or  Pears,  which  she  carried  in  a  deep  detached 
pocket  at  her  side.  She  never  spoke,  and  the  milk- 
man confided  to  my  mother  that  he  "took  her  around 


344 


Old  Time  Gardens 


because  she  was  so  wild,"  by  which  he  meant  timid. 
We  were  firmly  convinced  that  the  child  could  not 
walk  nor  speak,  and  had  no  ears  ;  and  we  were  much 
surprised  when  she  walked  down  the  aisle  of  our 
church  one  Sunday  as  actively  as  any  child  could, 
displaying  very  natural  ears.  Her  father  had 
bought  a  home  in  the  town  that  she  might  go  to 
IMI  i^^^  school.  He  was 

rewarded  by  her 
develop  ment 
into  one  of  those 
scholars  of  phe- 
nomenal brill- 
iancy, such  as 
are  occasionally 
produced  from 
New  England 
farmers'  families. 
She  also  became 
a  beauty  of  most 
unusual  type. 
At  her  father's 
death  she  "went 
West."  I  have 
always  expected  to  read  of  her  as  of  marked  life  in 
some  way,  but  I  never  have.  Of  course  her  family 
name  may  have  been  changed  by  marriage ;  but  her 
Christian  name,  Appoline,  was  so  unusual  I  could 
certainly  trace  her.  If  my  wild  and  beautiful  little 
milk  girl  reads  these  lines,  I  hope  she  will  forgive 
me,  for  she  certainly  was  queer. 

When  her  residence  was  in  town,  Appoline  did 


Sun-dial  of  Jonathan   Fairbanks. 


Meetin'  Seed  and  Sabbath  Day  Posies     345 

not  cease  her  gifts  of  country  treasures.  She  brought 
on  spring  Sundays  a  very  delightful  addition  to  our 
Sabbath  day  nibblings  and  browsings,  the  most  deli- 
cious mouthful  of  all  the  treasures  of  New  England 
woods,  what  we  called  Pippins,  the  first  tender  leaves 
of  the  aromatic  Checkerberry.  In  the  autumn  the 
spicy  berries  of  the  same  plant  filled  many  a  paper 
cornucopia  which  was  secretly  conveyed  to  us. 

It  was  also  a  universal  custom  among  the  elder 
folk  to  carry  a  Sunday  posy;  the  stems  were  dis- 
creetly enwrapped  with  the  folded  handkerchief 
which  also  concealed  the  sprig  of  Fennel.  Dean 
Hole  tells  us  that  a  sprig  of  Southernwood  was 
always  seen  in  the  Sunday  smocks  of  English  farm 
folk.  Mary  Howitt,  in  her  poem,  The  Poor  Mans 
Garden,  has  this  verse  :  — 

"And  here  on  Sabbath  mornings 
The  goodman  comes  to  get 
His  Sunday  nosegay  —  Moss  Rose  bud, 
White  Pink,  and  Mignonette." 

This  shows  to  me  that  the  church  posy  was  just 
as  common  in  England  as  in  America;  in  domestic 
and  social  customs  we  can  never  disassociate  our- 
selves from'  England;  our  ways,  our  deeds,  are  all 
English. 

Thoreau  noted  with  pleasure  when,  at  the  last  of 
June,  the  young  men  of  Concord  "walked  slowly 
and  soberly  to  church,  in  their  best  clothes,  each 
with  a  Pond  Lily  in  his  hand  or  bosom,  with  as 
long  a  stem  as  he  could  get."  And  he  adds 
thereto  almost  the  only  decorous  and  conven- 


346 


Old  Time  Gardens 


tional  picture  he  gives  of  himself,  that  he  used  in 
early  life  to  go  thus  to  church,  smelling  a  Pond  Lily, 
"  its  odor  contrasting  with  and  atoning  for  that  of 
the  sermon."  He  associated  this  universal  bearing 
of  the  Lily  with  a  very  natural  act,  that  of  the  first 
^  spring  swim  and 

^^^^^B^^^^^^^^^^^fe,     bath,   and    pictured 

with  delight  the 
quiet  Sabbath  still- 
ness and  the  pure 
openingflowers.  He 
said  the  flower  had 
become  typical  to 
him  equally  of  a 
Sunday  morning 
swim  and  of  church- 
going.  He  adds 
that  the  young  wo- 
men carried  on  this 
floral  Sunday,  as  a 
companion  flower, 
their  first  Rose. 

This     Sabbath 
bearing  of  the  early 

Bronze  Sun-dial  on  Dutch  Reformed  Church,  Water     Lilies      may 
West  End  Avenue,  New  York.  have     been     a    local 

custom  ;  a  few  miles 

from  Walden  Pond  and  Concord  an  old  kinsman  of 
mine  throughout  his  long  life  (which  closed  twenty 
years  ago) carried  Water  Lilies  on  summer  Sundays  to 
church;  and  starting  with  neighborly  intent  a  short 
time  before  the  usual  hour  of  church  service,  he 


Meetin'  Seed  and  Sabbath   Day   Posies     347 


placed  a  single  beautiful  Lily  in  the  pew  of  each  of 
his  old  friends.  All  knew  who  was  the  flower  bearer, 
and  gentle  smiles  and  nods  of  thanks  would  radiate 
across  the  old  church  to  him.  These  lilies  were 
gathered  for  him  freshly  each  Sabbath  morning  by 
the  young  men  of  his  family,  who,  as  Thoreau  tells, 
all  took  their 
morning  bath  in 
the  pond  through- 
out the  summer. 
There  were 
conventions  in 
these  Sunday 
'posies.  I  never 
heard  of  carrying 
sprays  of  Lemon 
Verbena  or  Rose 
Geranium,  or  any 
of  the  strong- 
scented  herbs  of 
the  Mint  family  ; 
but  throughout 
eastern  Massa- 
chusetts, espe- 
cially in  Concord 
and  Wayland,  a 
favorite  posy  was 
a  spray  of  the  refreshing,  soft-textured  leaves  from 
what  country  folk  called  the  Tongue  plant — which 
was  none  other  than  Costmary,  also  called  Beaver 
tongue,  and  Patagonian  mint.  As  there  has  been 
recently  much  interest  and  discussion  anent  this 


Sun-dial  on  Boulder,   Swiftwater, 
Pennsylvania. 


348  Old  Time  Gardens 

Tongue  plant,  I  here  give  its  botanical  name  Chrys- 
anthemum bahamita,  var.  tanacetoides.  A  far  more 
popular  Sunday  posy  than  any  blossom  was  a  sprig 
of  Southernwood,  known  also  everywhere  as  Lad's- 
love,  and  occasionally  as  Old  Man  and  Kiss-me- 
quick-and-go.  It  was  also  termed  Meeting  plant 
from  this  universal  Sunday  use. 

A  restless  little  child  was  once  handed  during 
the  church  services  in  summer  a  bunch  of  Cara- 
way seeds,  and  a  goodly  sprig  of  Southernwood. 
The  little  girl's  mother  listened  earnestly  to  the 
long  sermon,  and  was  horrified  at  its  close  to  find 
that  her  child  had  eaten  the  entire  bunch  of  Caraway, 
stems  and  seeds,  and  all  the  bitter  Southernwood. 
She  was  hurried  out  of  church  to  the  village  doctor's, 
and  spent  a  very  unhappy  hour  or  two  as  the  result 
of  her  Nebuchadnezzar-like  gorging. 

Like  many  New  Englanders,  I  dearly  love  the 
scent  of  Southernwood  :  — 

"  I'll  give  to  him 

Who  gathers  me,  more  sweetness  than  he  knows 
Without  me  —  more  than  any  Lily  could, 
I,  that  am  flowerless,  being  Southernwood." 

Southernwood  bears  a  balmier  breath  than  is 
ever  borne  by  many  blossoms,  for  it  is  sweet  with 
the  fragrance  of  memory.  The  scent  that  has 
been  loved  for  centuries,  the  leaves  that  have  been 
pressed  to  the  hearts  of  fair  maids,  as  they  ques- 
tioned of  love,  are  indeed  endeared. 

Southernwood  was  a  plant  of  vast  powers.  It 
was  named  in  the  fourteenth  century  as  potent  to 


Meetin'  Seed  and  Sabbath   Day    Posies     349 


cure  talking  in  sleep,  and  other  "  vanityes  of  the 
heade."  An  old  Salem  sea  captain  had  this  recipe  for 
baldness  :  "  Take  a  quantitye  of  Suthernwoode  and 
put  it  upon  kindled  coale  to  burn  and  being  made 
into  a  powder  mix  it  with  oyl  of  radiches,  and  anoynt 
a  bald  head  and 
you  shall  see 
great  experi- 
ences." The  ly- 
ing old  Dispensa- 
tory of  Culpepper 
gave  a  rule  to  mix 
the  ashes  of 
Sou  thernwood 
with  "  Old  Sallet 
Oyl"  which 
"  helpeth  those 
that  are  hair- 
fallen  and  bald." 

Far  pleasanter 
were  the  uses  of 
the  plant  as  a  love 
charm.  Pliny  did 
not  disdain  to 
counsel  putting 
Southernwood 
under  the  pillow  to  make  one  dream  of  a  lover.  A 
sprig  of  Southernwood  in  an  unmarried  girl's  shoe 
would  bring  to  her  the  sight  of  her  husband-to-be 
before  night. 

Sixty  years  ago  two  young  country  folk  of  New 
England  were   married.      The    twain  built  them  a 


Sun-dial  at  Emery  Place,   Brightwood, 
District  of  Columbia. 


35° 


Old  Time  Gardens 


house  and  established  their  home.  Since  a  sprig  of 
Southernwood  had  played  a  romantic  part  in  their 
courtship,  each  planted  a  bush  at  the  side  of  the 


Sun-dial  at  Traveller's  Rest. 


broad  doorstone;  and  the  husband,  William,  often 
thrust  a  bit  of  this  Lad's-love  from  the  flourishing 
bushes  in  the  buttonhole  of  his  woollen  shirt,  for  he 
fancied  the  fresh  scent  of  the  leaves. 


Meetin'  Seed  and  Sabbath  Day  Posies     351 

The  twain  had  no  children,  and  perhaps  therefrom 
grew  and  increased  in  Hetty  a  fairly  passionate  love 
of  exact  order  and  neatness  in  her  home  —  a  trait 
which  is  not  so  common  in  New  England  house- 
wives as  many  fancy,  and  which  does  not  always 
find  equal  growth  and  encouragement  in  New  Eng- 
land husbands.  William  chafed  under  the  frequent 
and  bitter  reproofs  for  the  muddy  shoes,  dusty  gar- 
ments, hanging  straws  and  seeds  which  he  brought 
into  his  wife's  orderly  paradise,  and  the  jarring  cul- 
minated one  night  over  such  a  trifle,  a  green  sprig 
of  Lad's-love  which  he  had  dropped  and  trodden  into 
the  freshly  washed  floor  of  the  kitchen,  where  it  left 
a  green  stain  on  the  spotless  boards. 

The  quarrel  flamed  high,  and  was  followed  by  an 
ominous  calm  which  was  not  broken  at  breakfast. 
It  would  be  impossible  to  express  in  words  Hetty's 
emotions  when  she  crossed  her  threshold  to  set  her 
shining  milk  tins  in  the  morning  sunlight,  and  saw 
on  one  side  of  the  doorstone  a  yawning  hole  where 
had  grown  for  ten  years  William's  bunch  of  Lad's- 
love.  He  had  driven  to  the  next  village  to  sell 
some  grain,  so  she  could  search  unseen  for  the  van- 
ished emblem  of  domestic  felicity,  and  soon  she 
found  it,  in  the  ditch  by  the  public  road,  already 
withered  in  the  hot  sun. 

When  her  husband  went  at  nightfall  to  feed  and 
water  his  cattle,  he  found  the  other  bush  of  Lad's- 
love,  which  had  been  planted  with  such  affectionate 
sentiment,  trodden  in  the  mire  of  the  pigpen,  under 
the  feet  of  the  swine. 

They   lived   together   for   thirty   years   after   this 


352  Old  Time  Gardens 

crowning  indignity.  The  grass  grew  green  over  the 
empty  holes  by  the  doorside,  but  he  never  forgave 
her,  and  they  never  spoke  to  each  other  save  in 
direst  necessity,  and  then  in  fewest  words.  Yet 
they  were  not  wicked  folk.  She  cared  for  his  father 
and  mother  in  the  last  years  of  their  life  with  a 
devotion  that  was  fairly  pathetic  when  it  was  seen 
that  ^he  old  man  was  untidy  to  a  degree,  and  abso- 
lutely oblivious  of  all  her  orderly  ways  and  wishes. 
At  their  death  he  sent  for  and  "  homed,"  as  the 
expression  ran,  a  brother  of  hers  who  was  almost 
blind,  and  paid  the  expenses  of  her  nephew  through 
college  —  but  he  died  unforgiving;  the  sight  of  that 
beloved  Southernwood  —  in  the  pigpen  —  forever 
killed  his  affection. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

SUN-DIALS 

"Tis  an  old  dial,  dark  with  many  a  stain,. 
In  summer  crowned  with  drifting  orchard  bloom, 
Tricked  in  the  autumn  with  the  yellow  rain, 
And  white  in  winter  like  a  marble  tomb. 

:  And  round  about  its  gray,  time-eaten  brow 
Lean  letters  speak  —  a  worn  and  shattered  row  :  — 
'  I  am  a  Shade ;  A  Shadowe  too  arte  thou  ; 
I  mark  the  Time  ;   saye,  Gossip,  dost  thou  soe  ? '  ' 

—  AUSTIN  DOBSON. 


CENTURY  or  more  ago,  in 
the  heart  of  nearly  all  English 
gardens,  and  in  the  gardens  of 
our  American  colonies  as  well, 
there  might  be  seen  a  pedestal 
of  varying  material,  shape,  and 
pretension,  surmounted  by  the 
most  interesting  furnishing  in 
"dead-works"  of  the  garden,  a  sun-dial.  In  pub- 
lic squares,  on  the  walls  of  public  buildings,  on 
bridges,  and  by  the  side  of  the  way,  other  and 
simpler  dials  were  found.  On  the  walls  of  country 
houses  and  churches  vertical  sun-dials  were  dis- 
played; every  English  town  held  them  by  scores. 
In  Scotland,  and  to  some  extent  in  England,  these 
sun-dials  still  are  found ;  in  fine  old  gardens  the 
2  A  353 


354 


Old  Time  Gardens 


most  richly  carved  dials  are  standing ;  but  in 
America  they  have  become  so  rare  that  many  peo- 
ple have  never  seen  one.  In  many  of  the  formal 
gardens  planned  by  our  skilled  architects,  sun-dials 


Two  Old  Cronies,   the  Sun-dial  and  Bee  Skepe. 

are  now  springing  afresh  like  mushroom  growth  of 
a  single  night,  and  some  are  objects  of  the  greatest 
beauty  and  interest. 

If  the  claims  of  antiquity  and  historical  associa- 
tion have  aught  to  charm  us,  every  sun-dial  must 
be  assured  of  our  interest.  The  most  primitive 


Sun-dials  355 

mode  of  knowing  of  the  midday  hour  was  by  a  "noon 
mark,"  a  groove  cut  or  line  drawn  on  door  or  win- 
dow sill  which  indicated  the  meridian  hour  through 
a  shadow  thrown  on  this  noon  mark.  A  good 
guess  as  to  the  hours  near  noon  could  be  made  by 
noting  the  distance  of  the  shadow  from  the  noon 
mark.  I  chanced  to  be  near  an  old  noon  mark  this 
summer  as  the  sun  warned  that  noon  approached  ;  I 
noted  that  the  marking  shadow  crossed  the  line  at 
twenty  minutes  before  noon  by  our  watches  —  which, 
I  suppose,  was  near  enough  to  satisfy  our  "early 
to  rise"  ancestors.  Meridian  lines  were  often  traced 
with  exactness  on  the  floors  of  churches  in  Conti- 
nental Europe. 

An  advance  step  in  accuracy  and  elegance  was 
made  when  a  simple  metal  sun-dial  was  affixed  to  the 
window  sill  instead  of  cutting  the  rude  noon  mark. 
Soon  the  sun-dial  was  set  on  a  simple  pedestal  near 
the  kitchen  window,  so  that  the  active  worker  within 
might  glance  at  the  dial  face  without  ceasing  in  her 
task.  Such  a  sun-dial  is  shown  on  page  354,  as  it 
stands  under  the  "  buttery  "  window  cosily  hobnob- 
bing with  its  old  crony  of  many  years,  the  bee  skepe. 
One  could  wish  to  be  a  bee,  and  live  in  that  snug 
home  under  the  Syringa  bush. 

Portable  sun-dials  succeeded  fixed  dials  ;  they  have 
been  known  as  long  as  the  Christian  era ;  shepherds' 
dials  were  the  "  Kalendars  "  or  "  Cylindres  "  about 
which  treatises  were  written  as  early  as  the  thir- 
teenth century.  They  were  small  cylinders  of  wood 
or  ivory,  having  at  the  top  a  kind  of  stopper 
with  a  hinged  gnomon;  they  are  still  used  in  the 


356 


Old  Time  Gardens 


Pyrenees.  Pretty  little  "ring-dials"  of  brass,  gold, 
or  silver,  are  constructed  on  the  same  principle. 
The  exquisitely  wrought  portable  dial  shown  on 
this  page  is  a  very  fine  piece  of  workmanship,  and 
must  have  been  costly.  It  is  dated  1764,  and  is 
eleven  inches  in  diameter.  It  is  a  perfect  example 


Portable  Sun-dial. 

of  the  advanced  type  of  dial  made  in  Italy,  which 
had  a  simpler  form  as  early  certainly  as  A.D.  300. 
The  compass  was  added  in  the  thirteenth  century. 
The  compass-needle  is  missing  on  this  dial,  its  only 
blemish.  The  Italians  excelled  in  dial-making ; 
among  their  interesting  forms  were  the  cross-shaped 
dials  evidently  a  reliquary. 


Sun-dials  357 

Portable  dials  were  used  instead  of  watches.  There 
is  at  the  Washington  headquarters  at  Morristown  a 
delicately  wrought  oval  silver  case,  with  compass  and 
sun-dial,  which  was  carried  by  one  of  the  French 
officers  who  came  here  with  Lafayette ;  George 
Washington  owned  and  carried  one. 

The  colonists  came  here  from  a  land  set  with  dials, 
whether  they  sailed  from  Holland  or  England. 
Charles  I  had  a  vast  fancy  for  dials,  and  had  them 
placed  everywhere ;  the  finest  and  most  curious  was 
the  splendid  master  dial  placed  in  his  private  gardens 
at  Whitehall ;  this  had  five  dials  set  in  the  upper 
part,  four  in  the  four  corners,  and  a  great  horizontal 
concave  dial ;  among  these  were  scattered  equinoctial 
dials,  vertical  dials,  declining  dials,  polar  dials,  plane 
dials,  cylindrical  dials,  triangular  dials ;  each  was 
inscribed  with  explanatory  verses  in  Latin.  Equally 
beautiful  and  intricate  were  the  dials  of  Charles  II, 
the  most  marvellous  being  the  vast  pyramid  dial 
bearing  271  different  dial  faces. 

Those  who  wish  to  learn  of  English  sun-dials 
should  read  Mrs.  Gatty's  Book  of  Sun-dials,  a  mas- 
sive and  fascinating  volume.  No  such  extended 
record  could  be  made  of  American  sun-dials ;  but 
it  pleases  me  that  I  know  of  over  two  hundred  sun- 
dials in  America,  chiefly  old  ones ;  that  I  have  pho- 
tographs of  many  of  them  ;  that  I  have  copies  of 
many  hundred  dial  mottoes,  and  also  a  very  fair  col- 
lection of  the  old  dial  faces,  of  various  metals  and 
sizes. 

I  know  of  no  public  collection  of  sun-dials  in 
America  save  that  in  the  Smithsonian  Institution, 


358  Old  Time  Gardens 

and  that  is  not  a  large  one.  Several  of  our  Histori- 
cal Societies  own  single  sun-dials.  In  the  Essex 
Institute  is  the  sun-dial  of  Governor  Endicott ; 
another,  shown  on  page  344,  was  once  the  property 
of  my  far-away  grandfather,  Jonathan  Fairbanks ; 
it  is  in  the  Dedham  Historical  Society. 

All  forms  of  sun-dials  are  interesting.     A  simple 
but  accurate  one  was  set  on  Robins  Island  by  the 


Sun-dial  in  Garden  of  Frederick  J.  Kingsbury,  Esq. 

late  Samuel  Bowne  Duryea,  Esq.,  of  Brooklyn. 
Taking  the  flagpole  of  the  club  house  as  a  stylus, 
he  laid  the  lines  and  figures  of  the  dial-face  with 
small  dark  stones  on  a  ground  of  light-hued  stones, 
all  set  firmly  in  the  earth  at  the  base  of  the  pole. 
Thus  was  formed,  with  the  simplest  materials,  by 
one  who  ever  strove  to  give  pleasure  and  stimulate 
knowledge  in  all  around  him,  an  object  which  not 


Sun-dials 


359 


only  told  the  time  o'  the  day,  but  afforded  gratifica- 
tion, elicited  investigation,  and  awakened  sentiment 
in  all  who  beheld  it. 

A  similar  use  of  a  vertical  pole  as  a  primitive 
gnomon  for  a  sun-dial  seems  to 
have  been  common  to  many  un- 
civilized peoples.  In  upper 
Egypt  the  natives  set  up  a  palm 
rod  in  open  ground,  and  arrange 
a  circle  of  stones  or  pegs  around 
it,  calling  it  an  alka,  and  thus 
mark  the  hours.  The  plough- 
man leaves  his  buffalo  standing 
in  the  furrow  while  he  learns  the 
progress  of  time  from  this  sim- 
ple dial  —  and  we  recall  the 
words  of  Job,  "  As  a  servant 
earnestly  desireth  a  shadow." 

The  Labrador  Ind- 
ians, when  on  the  hunt  or 
the  march,  set  an  upright 
stick  or  spear  in  the  snow, 
and  draw  the  line  of  the 
shadow  thus  cast.  They 
then  stalk  on  their  way ; 
and  the  women,  heavily 
laden  with  provisions, 
shelter,  and  fuel,  come  slowly  along  two  or  three 
hours  later,  note  the  distance  between  the  present 
shadow  and  the  line  drawn  by  their  lords,  and  know 
at  once  whether  they  must  gather  up  the  stick  or 
spear  and  hurry  along,  or  can  rest  for  a  short  time 


Sun-dial  at  Morristown,  New  Jersey. 


360  Old  Time  Gardens 

on  their  weary  march.     This  is  a  primitive  but  exact 
chronometer. 

There  are  serious  objections  to  quoting  from 
Charles  Lamb  :  you  are  never  willing  to  end  the 
transcription — you  long  to  add  just  one  phrase,  one 
clause  more.  Then,  too,  the  purity  of  the  pearl 
which  you  choose  seems  to  render  duller  than  their 
wont  the  leaden  sentences  with  which  you  enclose  it 
as  a  setting.  Still,  who  could  write  of  sun-dials 
without  choosing  to  transcribe  these  words  of 
Lamb's  ? 

44  What  a  dead  thing  is  a  clock,  with  its  ponderous  em- 
bowelments  of  lead  or  brass,  its  pert  or  solemn  dulness  of 
communication,  compared  with  the  simple  altar-like  struc- 
ture and  silent  heart-language  of  the  old  dial  !  It  stood  as 
the  garden  god  of  Christian  gardens.  Why  is  it  almost 
everywhere  banished  ?  If  its  business  use  be  suspended 
by  more  elaborate  inventions,  its  moral  uses,  its  beauty, 
might  have  pleaded  for  its  continuance.  It  spoke  of  mod- 
erate labors,  of  pleasures  not  protracted  after  sunset,  of 
temperance  and  good  hours.  It  was  the  primitive  clock, 
the  horologe  of  the  first  world.  Adam  could  scarce  have 
missed  it  in  Paradise.  The  '  shepherd  carved  it  out  quaintly 
in  the  sun,'  and  turning  philosopher  by  the  very  occupa- 
tion, provided  it  with  mottoes  more  touching  than  tomb- 
stones." 

Sun-dial  mottoes  still  can  be  gathered  by  hundreds ; 
and  they  are  one  record  of  a  force  in  the  develop- 
ment of  our  literate  people.  For  it  was  long  after 
we  had  printing  ere  we  had  any  general  class  of  folk, 
who,  if  they  could  read,  read  anything  save  the  Bible. 
To  many  the  knowledge  of  reading  came  from  the 


Sun-dials 


36i 


deciphering  of  what   has  been   happily   termed   the 

Literature   of  the    Bookless.      This   literature   was 

placed  that  he  who  ran  might  read ;  and  its  opening 

chapters  were  in  the  form  of  inscriptions  and  legends 

and   mottoes 

which      were 

placed,  not  only 

on  buildings  and 

walls,  and  pillars 

and  bridges,  but 

on   household 

furniture     and 

table  utensils. 

The  inscribing 
of  mottoes  on 
sun-dials  appears 
to  have  sprung 
up  with  dial- 
making;  and 
where  could  a 
strict  moral  les- 
son, a  suggestive 
or  inspiring 
thought,  be  bet- 
ter placed?  Even 
the  most  heed- 
less or  indifferent  passer-by,  or  the  unwilling  reader 
could  not  fail  to  see  the  instructive  words  when  he 
cast  his  glance  to  learn  the  time. 

The  mottoes  were  frequently  in  Latin,  a  few  in 
Greek  or  Hebrew ;  but  the  old  English  mottoes 
seem  the  most  appealing. 


Yes,  Toby !    It's  Three  O'clock. 


362 


Old  Time  Gardens 


ABUSE    ME    NOT    I     DO    NO    ILL 

I    STAND    TO    SERVE    THEE    WITH    GOOD    WILL 

AS    CAREFUL    THEN     BE    SURE    THOU    BE 

TO    SERVE    THY    GOD    AS    I    SERVE    THEE. 

A    CLOCK    THE    TIME    MAY    WRONGLY    TELL 
I    NEVER    IF    THE    SUN    SHINE    WELL. 

AS    A    SHADOW    SUCH     IS    LIFE. 

I   COUNT     NONE     BUT    SUNNY    HOURS. 

BE    THE    DAY    WEARY,    BE    THE    DAY    LONG 
SOON    IT    SHALL    RING    TO    EVEN    SONG. 


dials. 
Landor : — 


Scriptural  verses  have 
ever  been  favorites,  es- 
pecially passages  from 
the  Psalms  :  "  Man  is 
like  a  thing  of  nought, 
his  time  passeth  away 
like  a  shadow."  "My 
time  is  in  Thy  hand." 
"  Put  not  off  from  day 
to  day."  "  Oh,  re- 
member how  short  my 
time  is."  Some  of  the 
Latin  mottoes  are  very 
beautiful. 

Poets    have    written 
special  verses  for  sun- 
These    noble    lines    are    by   Walter   Savage 


Face  of  Dial  at  Sag  Harbor,  Long 
Island. 


Sun-dials  363 

IN    HIS    OWN    IMAGE    THE    CREATOR    MADE, 
HIS    OWN     PURE    SUNBEAM    QUICKENED    THEE,    O    MAN  \ 
THOU    BREATHING    DIAL  !     SINCE    THE     DAY    BEGAN 
THE  PRESENT  HOUR  WAS  EVER    MARKED  WITH    SHADE. 

The  motto,  Horas  non  numero  nisi  serenas,  in  vari- 
ous forms  and  languages,  has  ever  been  a  favorite. 
From  an  old  album  I  have  received  this  poem  writ- 
ten by  Professor  S.  F.  B.  Morse ;  there  is  a  note 
with  it  in  Professor  Morse's  handwriting,  saying  he 
saw  the  motto  on  a  sun-dial  at  Worms  :  — 

TO   A.   G.  E. 

Horas  non  numero  nisi  serenas. 

The  sun  when  it  shines  in  a  clear  cloudless  sky 
Marks  the  time  on  my  disk  in  figures  of  light  ; 

If  clouds  gather  o'er  me,  unheeded  they  fly, 
I  note  not  the  hours  except  they  be  bright. 

So  when  I  review  all  the  scenes  that  have  past 

Between  me  and  thee,  be  they  dark,  be  they  light, 
I  forget  what  was  dark,  the  light  I  hold  fast  ; 
I  note  not  the  hours  except  they  be  bright. 
SAMUEL  F.  B.  MORSE, 

Washington,  March,  1845. 

The  sun-dial  seems  too  classic  an  object,  and  too 
serious  a  teacher,  to  bear  a  jesting  motto.  This 
sober  pun  was  often  seen  :  — 

LIFE'S  BUT  A  SHADOWE 

MAN'S  BUT   DUST 
THIS  DYALL  SAYES 

DY  ALL  WE   MUST. 


364 


Old  Time  Gardens 


The' sun-dial  does  not  lure  to  "idle  dalliance." 
Nine-tenths  of  the  sun-dial  mottoes  tersely  warn  you 

not  to  linger,  to 
haste  away,  that 
time  is  fleeting, 
and  your  hours 
are  numbered, 
and  therefore  to 
"  be  about  your 
business."  In  a 
single  moment 
and  at  a  single 
glance  the  sun- 
dial has  said  its 
lesson,  has  told 
its  absolute  mes- 
sage, and  there 
is  no  reason  for 
you  to  gaze  at  it 
longer.  Its  very 
position,  too,  in 
the  unshaded 
rays  of  the  sun, 
does  not  invite 
you  to  long  com- 
panionship, as 
do  the  shady 
lengths  of  a  per- 
gola, or  a  green 
orchard  seat. 

Sun-dial  in  Garden  of  Grace  Church  Still,       I       Would 

Rectory,  New  York.  ever  have  a  gar- 


Sun-dials 


365 


den  seat  near  a  sun-dial,  especially  when  it  is  a  work 
of  art  to  be  studied,  and  with  mottoes  to  be  remem- 
bered. For  even  in  hurrying  America  the  sun-dial 
seems  —  like  a  guide-post  —  a  half-human  thing, 
for  which  we 
can  feel  an  al- 
most persona] 
interest. 

The  figure 
of  a  sun-dial 
played  an  in- 
teresting part 
in  the  early 
history  of  the 
United  States. 
In  the  first  set 
of  notes  issued 
for  currency 
by  the  Amer- 
ican Congress 
was  one  for 
the  value  of 
one  third  of  a 
dollar.  One 
side  has  the 
chain  of  links 
bearing  the  names  of  the  thirteen  states,  enclosing  a 
sunburst  bearing  the  words,  American  Congress^  We 
are  One.  The  reverse  side  is  shown  on  this  page. 
It  bears  a  print  of  a  sun-dial,  with  the  motto,  Fugto, 
Mind  Tour  Business.  The  so-called  "  Franklin  cent" 
has  a  similar  design  of  a  sun-dial  with  the  same  motto, 


f.'iONE  THI 


Fugio  Bank-note. 


366  Old  Time  Gardens 

and  there  was  a  beautiful  "  Fugio  dollar "  cast 
in  silver,  bronze,  and  pewter.  Though  this  de- 
sign and  motto  were  evidently  Franklin's  taste, 
the  motto  in  its  use  on  a  sun-dial  was  not  original 
with  Franklin,  nor  with  any  one  else  in  the  Congress, 
for  it  had  been  seen  on  dials  on  many  English 
churches  and  houses.  In  the  form,  "  Begone  about 
Your  Business,"  it  was  on  a  house  in  the  Inner 
Temple ;  this  is  the  tradition  of  the  origin  of  this 
motto.  The  dialler  sent  for  a  motto  to  place  under 
the  dial,  as  he  had  been  instructed  by  the  Bench- 
ers ;  when  the  man  arrived  at  the  Library,  he  found 
but  one  surly  old  gentleman  poring  over  a  musty 
book.  To  him  he  said,  "  Please,  sir,  the  gentlemen 
told  me  to  call  this  hour  for  a  motto  for  the  sun- 
dial." "  Begone  about  your  business,"  was  the  testy 
answer.  So  the  man  painted  the  words  under  the 
dial;  and  the  chance  words  seemed  so  appropriate  to 
the  Benchers  that  they  were  never  removed.  It  is 
told  of  Dean  Cotton  of  Bangor  that  he  had  a 
cross  old  gardener  who  always  warded  off  un- 
welcome visitors  to  the  deanery  by  saying  to  every 
one  who  approached,  "  Go  about  your  business  !  " 
After  the  gardener's  death  the  dean  had  this  motto* 
engraved  around  the  sun-dial  in  the  garden,  "  Goa 
bou  tyo  urb  us  in  ess,  1838."  Thus  the  gardener's 
growl  became  his  epitaph.  Another  form  was, 
"  Be  about  Your  Business,"  and  it  is  a  suggestive 
fact  that  it  was  on  a  dial  on  the  General  Post-office 
in  London  in  1756.  Franklin's  interest  in  and  knowl- 
edge of  postal  matters,  his  long  residence  in  London, 
and  service  under  the  crown  as  American  post- 


Sun-dials 


master  general,  must  have  familiarized  him  with  this 
dial,  and  I  am  convinced  it  furnished  to  him  the 
notion  for  the  design  on  the  first  bank-note  and 
coins  of  the  new 
nation. 

An  interesting 
bit  of  history 
allied  to  America 
is  given  to  us  in 
the  finding  of  a 
sun-dial  which 
gives  to  Ameri- 
can students  of 
heraldic  antiqui- 
ties another 
dated  shield  of 
the  Washing- 
ton "  stars  and 
stripes." 

In  Little  Bring- 
ton,  Northamp- 
tonshire, stands  a 
house  known  as 
"TheWashington 
House,"  which 
gave  shelter  to  the  Washingtons  of  Sulgrave  after 
the  fall  of  their  fortunes.  Within  a  stone's  throw 
of  the  house  has  recently  been  found  a  sun-dial  hav- 
ing the  Washington  arms  (argent)  two  bars,  and  in 
chief  three  mullets  (gules)  carved  upon  it,  with  the 
date  1617.  The  existence  of  this  stone  has  been 
known  for  forty  years ;  but  it  has  never  been  closely 


Sun-dial  at  "Washington  House,"  Little 
Brington,  England. 


368 


Old  Time  Gardens 


examined  and  noted  till  recently.  It  is  a  circular 
slab  of  sandstone  three  inches  thick  and  sixteen 
inches  in  diameter.  The  gnomon  is  lacking.  The 
lines,  figures,  and  shield  are  incised,  and  the  letters 
R.  W.  can  be  dimly  seen.  These  were  probably 


Dial-face  from  Mount  Vernon. 


the  initials  of  Robert  Washington,  great  uncle  of  the 
two  emigrants  to  Virginia. 

Through  the  kindness  of  Mr.  A.  L.  Y.  Morley, 
a  faithful  antiquary  of  Great  Barrington,  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  giving,  on  page  367,  a  representation 
of  this  interesting  dial.  It  is  shown  leaning  against 


Sun-dials 


369 


the  "  pump-stand  "  in  the  yard  of  the  "  Washington 
House  "  ;  and  the  pump  seems  as  ancient  as  the  dial. 
In  this  book  are  three  other  sun-dials  associated 
with  George  Washington.  At  Mount  Vernon  there 
stands  at  the 
front  of  the  en- 
trance door  a 
modern  sun- 
dial. The  fine 
old  metal  dial- 
face,  about  ten 
inches  in  diame- 
ter, which  in 
Washington's 
day  was  placed 
on  the  same  site, 
is  now  the  prop- 
erty of  Wil- 
liam F.  Have- 
meyer,  Esq.,  of 
New  York.  It 
was  given  him 
by  a  member  of 
the  Washington 
family;  this  dial- 
face,  shown  on 
page  368,  is  a 
splendid  relic ; 
one  closely  associated  with  Washington's  everyday 
life,  and  full  of  suggestion  and  sentiment  to  every 
thoughtful  beholder.  The  sun-dial  which  stood  in 
the  old  Fredericksburg  garden  of  Mary  Washington, 


Sun-dial  of  Mary  Washington,  Fredericksburg, 
Virginia. 


370  Old  Time  Gardens 

the  mother  of  George  Washington,  still  stands  in 
Fredericksburg,  in  the  grounds  of  Mr.  Doswell.  A 
photograph  of  it  is  reproduced  on  page  369.  The 
fourth  historic  dial  is  on  page  371.  It  is  the  one 
at  Kenmore,  the  home  built  by  Fielding  Lewis  for 
his  bride,  Betty  Washington,  the  sister  of  George 
Washington,  on  ground  adjoining  her  mother's 
home.  A  part  of  the  garden  which  connected  these 
two  Washington  homes  is  shown  on  page  228. 
These  three  American  sun-dials  afford  an  interest- 
ing proof  of  the  universal  presence  of  sun-dials  in 
Virginian  homes  of  wealth,  and  they  also  show  the 
kind  of  dial-face  which  was  generally  used.  Another 
ancient  dial  (page  350)  at  Travellers'  Rest,  a  near-by 
Virginian  country  seat,  is  similar  in  shape  to  these 
three,  and  differs  but  little  in  mounting. 

In  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia  sun-dials  have  lin- 
gered in  use  in  front  of  court-houses,  on  churches, 
and  in  a  few  old  garden  dials.  In  New  England 
I  scarcely  know  an  old  garden  dial  still  standing 
in  its  original  place  on  its  original  pedestal.  Four 
old  ones  of  brass  or  pewter  are  shown  in  the 
illustration  on  page  379.  These  once  stood  in 
New  England  gardens  or  on  the  window  sills  of  old 
houses ;  one  was  taken  from  a  sunny  window  ledge 
to  give  to  me. 

Perhaps  the  attention  paid  the  doings  of  the 
American  Philosophical  Society,  and  the  number  of 
scientists  living  near  Philadelphia,  may  account  for 
the  many  sun-dials  set  up  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
town.  Godfrey,  the  maker  of  Godfrey's  Quadrant, 
was  one  of  those  scientific  investigators,  and  must 
have  been  a  famous  "  dialler." 


Sun-dials 


37* 


On  page  373  is  shown  an  ancient  sun-dial  in  the 
garden  of  Charles  F.  Jenkins,  Esq.,  in  German- 
town,  Pennsylvania.  This  sun-dial  originally  be- 
longed to  Nathan  Spencer,  who  lived  in  Germantown 


Kenmore,  the  Home  of  Betty  Washington  Lewis. 

prior  to  and  during  the  Revolutionary  War.  Hep- 
zibah  Spencer,  his  daughter,  married,  and  took  the 
sun-dial  to  Byberry.  Her  daughter  carried  the  sun- 
dial to  Gwynedd  when  her  name  was  changed  to 
Jenkins  ;  and  their  grandson,  the  present  owner, 
rescued  it  from  the  chicken  house  with  the  gnomon 


372  Old  Time  Gardens 

missing,  which  was  afterward  found.  Its  inscription, 
"  Time  waits  for  No  Man,"  is  an  old  punning  de- 
vice on  the  word  gnomon. 

At  one  time  dialling  was  taught  by  many  a 
country  schoolmaster,  and  excellent  and  accurate 
sun-dials  were  made  and  set  up  by  country 
workmen,  usually  masons  of  slight  education. 
In  Scotland  the  making  of  sun-dials  has  never  died 
out.  In  America  many  pewter  sun-dials  were  cast 
in  moulds  of  steatite  or  other  material.  A  few  dial- 
makers  still  remain  ;  one  in  lower  New  York  makes 
very  interesting-looking  sun-dials  of  brass,  which, 
properly  discolored  and  stained,  find  a  ready  sale 
in  uptown  shops.  I  doubt  if  these  are  ever  made 
for  any  special  geographical  point,  but  there  is  in 
a  small  Pennsylvania  town  an  old  Quaker  who 
makes  carefully  calculated  and  accurate  sun-dials, 
computed  by  logarithms  for  special  places.  I  should 
like  to  see  him  "  sit  like  a  shepherd  carving  out 
dials,  quaintly  point  by  point."  I  have  a  very  pretty 
circular  brass  dial  of  his  making,  about  eight  inches 
in  diameter.  He  writes  me  that  "  the  dial  sent  thee 
is  a  good  students'  dial,  fit  to  set  outside  the  window 
for  a  young  man  to  use  and  study  by  in  college," 
which  would  indicate  to  me  that  my  Quaker  dialler 
knows  another  type  of  collegian  from  those  of  my 
acquaintance,  who  would  find  the  time  set  by  a  sun- 
dial rather  slow. 

There  have  been  those  who  truly  loved  sun- 
dials. Sir  William  Temple  ordered  that  after  his 
death  his  heart  should  be  buried  under  the  sun- 
dial in  his  garden  —  where  his  heart  had  been  in 


Sun-dials 


373 


life.  'Tis  not  unusual  to  see  a  sun-dial  over  the 
gate  to  a  burial  ground,  and  a  noble  emblem  it 
is  in  that  place ;  one  at  Mount  Auburn  Cemetery, 


Sun-dial  in  Garden  of  Charles  F.  Jenkins,  Esq.,  Germantown, 
Pennsylvania. 

near  Boston,  bears  a  pleasing  motto  written  origi- 
nally by  John  G.  Whittier  for  his  friend,  Dr. 
Henry  Ingersoll  Bowditch,  and  inscribed  on  a 
beautiful  silver  sun-dial  now  owned  by  Dr.  Vin- 


374  Old  Time  Gardens 

cent  Y.  Bowditch  of  Boston,  Massachusetts.  A 
facsimile  of  this  dial  was  also  placed  before 
the  Manor  House  on  the  island  of  Naushon  by 
Mr.  John  M.  Forbes  in  memory  of  Dr.  Bowditch. 
The  lines  run  thus  :  — 

WITH  WARNING  HAND  I  MARK  T1ME*S  RAPID  FLIGHT 
FROM  LIFE'S  GLAD  MORNING  TO  ITS  SOLEMN  NIGHT. 
YET,  THROUGH  THE  DEAR  GOD's  LOVE  I  ALSO  SHOW 
THERE'S  LIGHT  ABOVE  ME,  BY  THE  SHADE  BELOW. 

A  sun-dial  is  to  me,  in  many  places,  a  far  more  in- 
spiring memorial  than  a  monument  or  tablet.  Let 
me  give  as  an  example  the  fine  sun-dial,  designed  by 
W.  Gedney  Beatty,  Esq.,  and  shown  on  page  359, 
which  was  erected  on  the  grounds  of  the  Memorial 
Hospital  at  Morristown,  New  Jersey,  by  the  Society 
of  the  Daughters  of  the  American  Revolution,  to 
mark  the  spot  where  Washington  partook  of  the 
Communion. 

What  dignified  and  appropriate  church  appoint- 
ments sun-dials  are.  A  simple  and  impressive  bronze 
vertical  dial  on  the  wall  of  the  Dutch  Reformed 
Church  on  West  End  Avenue,  New  York,  is  shown 
on  page  346.  The  sun-dial  standing  before  the  rec- 
tory of  Grace  Church  on  Broadway,  New  York,  is 
on  page  364. 

There  is  ever  much  question  as  to  a  suitable 
pedestal  for  garden  sun-dials  :  it  must  not  stand  so 
high  that  the  dial-face  cannot  be  looked  down  upon 
by  grown  persons ;  it  must  not  be  so  light  as  to 
seem  rickety,  nor  so  heavy  as  to  be  clumsy.  A 


Sun-dials 


375 


very  good  rule  is  to  err  on  the  side  of  simplicity 
in  sun-dials  for  ordinary  gardens.     What  I   regard 


Sun-dial  at  Ophir  Farm,  White   Plains,  New  York,  Country-seat 
of  Hon.  Whitelaw  Reid. 

as  a  very  satisfactory  pedestal  and  mounting  in 
every  particular  may  be  seen  in  the  illustration 
facing  page  80,  showing  the  sun-dial  in  the  gar- 
den of  Charles  E.  Mather,  Esq.,  at  Avonwood 


376  Old  Time  Gardens 

Court,  Haverford,  Pennsylvania.  Sometimes  the 
pillars  of  old  balustrades,  old  fence  posts,  and 
even  parts  of  old  tombs  and  monuments,  have 
been  used  as  pedestals  for  sun-dials.  How  pleas- 
antly Sylvana  in  her  Letters  to  an  Unknown  Friend^ 
tells  us  and  shows  to  us  her  cheerful  sun-dial 
mounted  on  the  four  corners  of  an  old  tomb- 
stone with  this  fine  motto  cut  into  the  upper  step, 
Lux  et  umbra  vicissim  sed  semper  amor.  I  mean 
to  search  the  stone-cutters'  waste  heap  this  summer 
and  see  whether  I  cannot  rob  the  grave  to  mark  the 
hours  of  my  life.  Charles  Dickens  had  at  Gadshill 
a  sun-dial  set  on  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  balustrade 
of  Old  Rochester  Bridge.  From  Italy  and  Greece 
marble  pillars  have  been  sent  from  ancient  ruins  to 
be  set  up  as  dial  pedestals. 

If  possible,  the  pedestal  as  well  as  the  dial-face  of 
a  handsome  sun-dial  should  have  some  significance 
through  association,  suggestion,  or  history.  At 
Ophir  Farm,  White  Plains,  New  York,  the  country- 
seat  of  Hon.  Whitelaw  Reid,  may  be  seen  a  sun-dial 
full  of  exquisite  significance.  It  is  shown  on  page 
375.  The  signs  of  the  Zodiac  in  finely  designed 
bronze  are  set  on  the  symmetrical  marble  pedestal, 
and  seem  wonderfully  harmonious  and  appropriate. 
This  sun-dial  is  a  literal  exemplification  of  the  words 
of  Emerson  :  — 

' '  A  calendar 

Exact  to  days,  exact  to  hours, 
Counted  on  the  spacious  dial 
Yon  broidered  Zodiac  girds." 


Sun-dials  377 

The  dial-face  is  upheld  by  a  carefully  modelled  tor- 
toise in  bronze,  which  is  an  equally  suggestive  em-. 
blem,  connected  with  the  tradition,  folk-lore,  and 
religious  beliefs  of  both  primitive  and  cultured  peo- 
ples ;  it  is  specially  full  of  meaning  in  this  place. 
The  whole  sun-dial  shows  much  thought  and  aes- 
thetic perception  in  the  designer  and  owner,  and 
cannot  fail  to  prove  gratifying  to  all  observers 
having  either  sensibility  or  judgment. 

Occasionally  a  very  unusual  and  beautiful  sun-dial 
standard  may  be  seen,  like  the  one  in  the  Rose  gar- 
den at  Yaddo,  Saratoga,  New  York,  a  copy  of  rarely 
beautiful  Pompeian  carvings.  A  representation  of 
this  is  shown  on  page  86.  Copies  of  simpler  antique 
carvings  make  excellent  sun-dial  pedestals  ;  a  safe 
rule  to  follow  is  to  have  a  reproduction  made  of  some 
well-proportioned  English  or  Scotch  pedestal.  The 
latter  are  well  suited  to  small  gardens.  I  have  draw- 
ings of  several  Scotch  sun-dials  and  pedestals  which 
would  be  charming  in  American  gardens.  In  the 
gardens  at  Hillside,  by  the  side  of  the  Shakespeare 
Border  is  a  sun-dial  (page  378)  which  is  an  exact 
reproduction  of  the  one  in  the  garden  at  Abbots- 
ford,  the  home  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  This  pedestal 
is  suited  to  its  surroundings,  is  well  proportioned ; 
and  has  historic  interest.  It  forms  an  excellent 
example  of  Charles  Lamb's  "  garden-altar." 

On  a  lawn  or  in  any  suitable  spot  the  dial-face  can 
be  mounted  on  a  boulder;  one  is  here  shown.  I 
prefer  a  pedestal.  For  gardens  of  limited  size,  much 
simplicity  of  design  is  more  pleasing  and  more  fitting 
than  any  elaborate  carving.  In  an  Italian  garden,  or 


378 


Old  Time  Gardens 


in  any  formal  garden  whose  work  in  stone  or  marble 
is  costly  and  artistic,  the  sun-dial  pedestal  should  be 


Sun-dial  at  Hillside,   Menand's,  near  Albany,   New  York. 

the  climax  in  richness  of  carving  of  all  the  garden 
furnishing.  I  like  the  pedestal  set  on  a  little  plat- 
form, so  two  or  three  steps  may  be  taken  up  to  it 
from  the  garden  level ;  but  after  all,  no  rules  can  be 


Sun-dials 


379 


given  for  the  dial's  setting.  It  may  be  planted  with 
vines,  or  stand  unornamented  ;  it  may  be  set  low, 
and  be  looked  down  upon,  or  it  may  be  raised  high 
up  on  a  side  wall;  but  wherever  it  is,  it  must  not 
be  for  a  single  minute  in  shadow ;  no  trees  or 
overhanging  shrubs  should  be  near  it ;  it  is  a  child 
of  the  sun,  and  lives  only  in  the  sun's  full  rays. 

In  the  lovely  old  garden 
at  the  home  of  Frederick 
J.    Kingsbury,    Esq.,     at 
Waterbury, 
Conn.,  is  a 


Old  Brass  and  Pewter  Dial-faces. 

sun-dial  bearing  the  motto,  "  Horas  non  numero  nisi 
serenas"  and  the  elates  1739-1751,  —  the  dates  of  the 
building  of  the  old  and  new  houses  on  land  that  has 
been  in  the  immediate  family  since  1739.  Around 
this  dial  is  a  crescent-shaped  bed  of  Zinnias,  and 
very  satisfactory  do  they  prove.  This  garden  has 
fine  Box  edgings;  one  is  shown  on  page  173,  a 
Box  walk,  set  in  1851  with  ancient  Box  brought 
from  the  garden  of  Mr.  Kingsbury's  great-great- 
grandfather. 

The  gnomon  of  a  sun-dial  is    usually  a  simple 


380  Old  Time  Gardens 

plate  of  metal  in  the  general  shape  of  a  right-angled 
triangle,  cut  often  in  some  pierced  design,  and 
occasionally  inscribed  with  a  motto,  name,  or  date. 
Sometimes  the  dial-maker  placed  on  the  gnomon 
various  Masonic  symbols  —  the  compass,  square, 
and  triangle,  or  the  coat  of  arms  of  the  dial 
owner. 

One  old  English  dial  fitting  we  have  never  copied 
in  America.  It  was  the  taste  of  the  days  of  the 
Stuart  kings,  days  of  constant  jesting  and  amuse- 
ment and  practical  jokes.  Concealed  water  jets  were 
placed  which  wet  the  clothing  of  the  unwary  one 
who  lingered  to  consult  the  dial-face. 

The  significance  of  the  sun-dial,  as  well  as  its  classi- 
cism, was  sure  to  be  felt  by  artists.  In  the  paintings 
of  Holbein,  of  Albert  Diirer,  dials  may  be  seen,  not 
idly  painted,  but  with  symbolic  meaning.  The  mys- 
tic import  of  a  sun-dial  is  shown  in  full  effect  in 
that  perfect  picture,  Beata  Beatrix,  by  Dante  Gabriel 
Rossetti.  I  have  chosen  to  show  here  (facing  page 
380)  the  Beata  Beatrix  owned  by  Charles  L.  Hutch- 
inson,  Esq.,  of  Chicago,  as  being  less  photographed 
and  known  than  the  one  of  the  British  Gallery,  from 
which  it  varies  slightly  and  also  because  it  has  the 
beautiful  predella.  In  this  picture,  in  the  words  of 
its  poet-painter :  — 

"  Love's  Hour  stands. 

Its  eyes  invisible 

Watch  till  the  dial's  thin  brown  shade 
Be  born  —  yea,  till  the  journeying  line  be  laid 
Upon  the  point." 


Beata  Beatrix. 


Sun-dials  381 

Andrew  Marvell  wrote  two  centuries  ago  of  the 
floral  sun-dials  which  were  the  height  of  the  garden- 
ing mode  of  his  day  :  — 

"  How  well  the  skilful  gardener  drew 

Of  flowers  and  herbs  this  dial  new. 

When  from  above  the  milder  sun 

Does  through  a  fragrant  zodiac  run  ; 

And  as  it  works  the  industrious  bee 

Computes  its  time  as  well  as  we  ! 
How  could  such  sweet  and  wholesome  hours 
Be  reckoned  but  with  herbs  and  flowers!" 

These  were  sometimes  set  of  diverse  flowers, 
sometimes  of  Mallows.  Two  of  growing  Box  are 


The  Faithful  Garc 


described    and   displayed    in    the    chapter  on     Box 
edgings. 


Old  Time  Gardens 


Linnaeus  made  a  list  of  forty-six  flowers  which 
constituted  what  he  termed  the  Horologe  or  Watch 
of  Flora,  and  he  gave  what  he  called  their  exact  hours 
of  rising  and  setting.  He  divided  them  into  three 
classes  :  Meteoric,  Tropical,  and  Equinoctial  flowers. 
Among  those  which  he  named  are :  — 


OPENING 

HOUR. 

CLOSING  HOUR. 

Dandelion    . 

5-6 

M. 

8-9  P.M. 

Mouse-ear  Hawkweed    . 

8 

M. 

2  P.M. 

Sow  Thistle 

5 

M. 

I  I  —  12   P.M. 

Yellow  Goat-beard 

3-5 

M. 

9-10  (?) 

White  Water  Lily 

7 

M. 

7  P.M. 

Day  Lily     . 

5 

M. 

7-8  P.M. 

Convolvulus           .         '  , 

5-6 

M. 

Mallow 

9-10 

M. 

Pimpernel    . 

7-8 

M. 

Portulaca 

9-10 

M. 

Pink  (  Dianthus  pro  lifer} 

8 

M. 

I    P.M. 

Succory 

4-5 

M. 

Calendula    . 

7 

M. 

3-4  P-M- 

Of  course  these  hours  would  vary  in  this  country. 
And  I  must  say  very  frankly  that  I  think  we  should 
always  be  behind  time  if  we  trusted  to  Flora's 
Horologe.  This  floral  clock  of  Linnaeus  was  calcu- 
lated for  Upsala,  Sweden ;  De  Candolle  gave  another 
for  Paris,  and  one  has  been  arranged  for  our  Eastern 
states. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

GARDEN    FURNISHINGS 

"Furnished  with  whatever  may  make  the  place  agreeable,  mel- 
ancholy, and  country-like." 

—  Forest  Trees,  JOHN  EVELYN,  1670. 

UAINT  old  books  of  garden  de- 
signers show  us  that  much  more 
was  contained  in  a  garden  two 
centuries  ago,  than  now  ;  it  had 
many  more  adjuncts, more  furnish- 
ings ;  a  very  full  list  of  them  has 
been  given  by  Batty  Langley  in 
his  New  Principles  of  Gardening, 
etc.,  1728.  Some  seem  amusing — as  haystacks  and 
woodpiles,  which  he  terms  "  rural  enrichments."  Of 
water  adornments  there  were  to  be  purling  streams, 
basins,  canals,  fountains,  cascades,  cold  baths.  There 
were  to  be  aviaries,  hare  warrens,  pheasant  grounds, 
partridge  grounds,  dove-cotes,  beehives,  deer  pad- 
docks, sheep  walks,  cow  pastures,  and  "manazeries" 
(menageries?);  physic  gardens,  orchards,  bowling- 
greens,  hop  gardens,  orangeries,  melon  grounds, 
vineyards,  parterres,  fruit  yards,  nurseries,  sun-dials, 
obelisks,  statues,  cabinets,  etc.,  decorated  the  garden 
walks.  There  were  to  be  land  gradings  of  mounts, 
winding  valleys,  dales,  terraces,  slopes,  borders,  open 
383  ' 


384  Old  Time  Gardens 

plains,  labyrinths,  wildernesses,  "  serpentine  mean- 
ders," "  rude-coppices,"  precipices,  amphitheatres. 
His  "  serpentine  meanders "  had  large  opening 
spaces  at  proper  distances,  in  one  of  which  might 
be  placed  a  small  fruit  garden,  a  "  cone  of  ever- 
greens," or  a  "  Paradice- Stocks,"  —  about  which  lat- 
ter mysterious  garden  adornment  I  think  we  must 
be  content  to  remain  in  ignorance,  since  he  certainly 
has  given  us  ample  variety  to  choose  from  without  it. 

Other  "  landscapists  "  placed  in  their  gardens  old 
ruins,  misshapen  rocks,  and  even  dead  trees,  in  order 
to  look  "  natural." 

In  1608  Henry  Ballard  brought  out  The  Gar- 
deners Labyrinth  —  a  pretty  good  book,  shut  away 
from  the  most  of  us  by  being  printed  in  black  letter. 
He  says :  — 

"The  framing  of  sundry  herbs  delectable,  with  waies 
and  allies  artfully  devised  is  an  upright  herbar." 

Herbars,  or  arbors,  were  of  two  kinds:  an  upright 
arbor,  which  was  merely  a  covered  lean-to  attached 
to  a  fence  or  wall;  and  a  winding  or  "arch-arbor" 
standing  alone.  He  names  "archherbs,"  which  are 
simply  climbing  vines  to  set  "  winding  in  arch-man- 
ner on  withie  poles."  "  Walker  and  sitters  there- 
under "  are  thereby  comfortably  protected  from 
the  heat  of  the  sun.  These  upright  arbors  were 
in  high  favor;  Ballard  says  they  offered  "fragrant 
savours,  delectable  sights,  and  sharpening  of  the 
memory." 

Tree  arbors  were  in  use    in   Elizabethan    times. 


A  Garden  Lyre  at  Waterford,  Virginia. 


Garden  Furnishings  385 

platforms  built  in  the  branches  of  large  trees.  Park- 
inson called  one  that  would  hold  fifty  men,  "the 
goodliest  spectacle  that  ever  his  eyes  beheld."  A 
distinction  was  made  between  arbors  and  bowers. 
The  arbor  might  be  round  or  square,  and  was  domed 
over  the  top ;  while  the  long  arched  way  was  a 
bower.  In  our  Southern  states  that  special  use  of 
the  word  bower  is  still  universal,  especially  in  the 
term  Rose  bowers.  A  quaint  and  universal  furnish- 
ing of  old  Southern  gardens  were  the  trellises  known 
as  garden  lyres.  Two  are  shown  in  this  chapter, 
from  Waterford,  Virginia;  one  bearing  little  foliage 
and  another  embowered  in  vines,  in  order  to  show 
what  a  really  good  vine  support  they  were.  Garden 
lyres  and  Rose  bowers  are  rotting  on  the  ground 
in  old  Virginia  gardens,  and  I  fear  they  will  never 
be  replaced. 

The  word  pergola  was  seldom  heard  here  a  cen- 
tury ago,  save  as  used  by  the  few  who  had  travelled 
in  Italy ;  but  pergolas  were  to  be  found  in  many 
an  old  American  garden.  An  ancient  oval  pergola 
still  stands  at  Arlington,  that  beautiful  spot  which 
was  once  the  home  of  the  Virginia  Lees,  and  is  now 
the  home  of  the  honored  dead  of  our  Civil  War. 
This  old  pergola  has  remained  unharmed  through 
fierce  conflict,  and  is  wreathed  each  spring  with  the 
verdure  of  vines  of  many  kinds.  It  is  twenty  feet 
wide  between  the  pillars,  and  forms  an  oval  one 
hundred  feet  long  and  seventy  wide,  and  when  in 
full  greenery  is  a  lovely  thing.  It  was  called  — 
indeed  it  is  still  termed  in  the  South  —  a  "green 
gallery,"  a  word  and  thing  of  mediaeval  days. 


386 


Old  Time  Gardens 


There  are  many  pretty  trellises  and  vine  supports 
and  arbors  which  can   be  made  of  light  poles  and 


A  Virginia  Lyre  with  Vines. 

rails,  but  I  do  not  like  to  hear  the  pretentious  name, 
pergola,  applied  to  them.     A  pergola  must  not  be  a 


Garden  Furnishings  387 

mean,  light-built  affair.  It  should  be  of  good  pro- 
portions and  substantial  materials.  It  need  not  be 
made  with  brick  or  marble  pillars ;  natural  tree 
trunks  of  good  size  serve  as  well.  It  should  look 
as  if  it  had  been  built  with  care  and  stability,  and 
that  the  vines  had  been  planted  and  trained  by 
skilled  gardeners.  A  pergola  may  have  a  dilapi- 
dated Present  and  be  endurable;  but  it  should 
show  evidences  of  a  substantial  Past. 

Little  sisters  of  the  pergola  are  the  charmilles,  or 
bosquets,  arches  of  growing  trees,  whose  interlaced 
boughs  have  no  supports  of  wood  as  have  the  per- 
golas. When  these  arches  are  carefully  trained  and 
pruned,  and  the  ground  underneath  is  laid  with  turf 
or  gnvel,  they  form  a  delightful  shady  walk. 

Charming  covered  ways  can  be  easily  made  by 
polling  and  training  Plum  or  Willow  trees.  Arches 
are  far  too  rare  in  American  gardens.  The  few  we 
have  are  generally  old  ones.  In  Mrs.  Pierson's 
garden  in  Salem  the  splendid  arch  of  Buckthorn  is  a 
hundred  and  twenty  five  years  old.  Similar  ones  are 
at  Indian  Hill.  Cedar  was  an  old  choice  for  hedges 
and  arches.  It  easily  winter-kills  at  the  base,  and 
that  is  ample  reason  for  its  rejection  and  disuse. 

The  many  garden  seats  of  the  old  English  garden 
were  perhaps  its  chief  feature  in  distinction  from 
American  garden  furnishings  to-day.  In  a  letter 
written  from  Kenilworth  in  1575  the  writer  told  of 
garden  seats  where  he  sat  in  the  heat  of  summer, 
"  feeling  the  pleasant  whisking  wynde."  I  have 
walked  through  many  a  large  modern  garden  in  the 
summer  heat,  and  longed  in  vain  for  a  shaded  seat 


388 


Old  Time  Gardens 


from  which  to  regard  for  a  few  moments  the  garden 
treasures  and  feel  the  whisking  wind,  and  would 
gladly  have  made  use  of  the  temporary  presence 
of  a  wheelbarrow. 


Old  Iron  Gate  at  Westover-on-James. 


Seats  of  marble  and  stone  are  in  many  of  our 
modern  formal  gardens  ;  a  pretty  one  is  in  the  garden 
at  Avonwood  Court. 

Grottoes,  arbors,  and  summer-houses  were  all  of 
importance  in  those  days,  when  in  our  latitude  and 


Garden  Furnishings  389 

climate  men  had  not  thought  to  build  piazzas  sur- 
rounding the  house  and  shadowing  all  the  ground 
floor  rooms.  We  are  beginning  to  think  anew  of 
the  value  of  sunlight  in  the  parlors  and  dining  rooms 
of  our  summer  homes,  which  for  the  past  thirty  or 
forty  years  have  been  so  darkened  by  our  wide 
piazzas.  Now  we  have  fewer  piazzas  and  more 
peristyles,  and  soon  we  shall  have  summer-houses 
and  garden  houses  also. 

There  are  preserved  in  the  South,  in  spite  of  war 
and  earthquake,  a  number  of  fine  examples  of  old 
wrought-iron  garden  gates.  King  William  of  Eng- 
land introduced  these  artistic  gates  into  England, 
and  they  were  the  height  of  garden  fashion.  Among 
them  were  the  beautiful  gates  still  at  Hampton 
Court,  and  those  of  Bulwich,  Northamptonshire. 
They  were  called  clair-voyees  on  account  of  the  unin- 
terrupted view  they  permitted  to  those  without  and 
within  the  walls.  These  were  often  painted  blue ; 
but  in  America  they  were  more  sober  of  tint,  though 
portions  were  gilded.  One  of  the  old  gates  at  West- 
over-on-James  is  here  shown,  and  on  page  390  the 
rich  wrought-iron  work  in  the  courtyard  at  the  home 
of  Colonel  Colt  in  Bristol,  Rhode  Island.  This  is 
as  fine  as  the  house,  and  that  is  a  splendid  example 
of  the  best  work  of  the  first  years  of  the  nineteenth 
century. 

Fountains  were  seen  usually  in  handsome  gardens 
in  the  South  ;  simple  water  jets  falling  in  a  handsome 
basin  of  marble  or  stone.  Statuary  of  marble  or  lead 
was  never  common  in  old  American  gardens,  though 
pretentious  gardens  had  examples.  To-day,  in  our 


390 


Old  Time  Gardens 


carefully  thought-out  gardens,  the  garden  statuary 
is  a  thing  of  beauty  and  often  of  meaning,  as  the 
figure  shown  on  page  84.  Usually  our  statues  are 

of  marble,  some- 
timesajapanese 
bronze  is  seen. 
In  the  old 
black  letter 
Gardener's  Lab- 
yrinth, a  very 
full  description 
is  given  of  old 
modes  of  water- 
ing a  garden. 
There  was  a 
primitive  and 
very  limited  sys- 
tem of  irriga- 
tion, the  water 
being  raised  by 
"  well-swipes  "  ; 
there  were  very 
handy  punch- 
eons, or  tubs  on 
wheels,  which 
could  be  trun- 
dled down  the 
garden  walk. 

There  was  also  a  formidable  "  Great  Squirt  of  Tin," 
which  was  said  to  take  "  mighty  strength  "  to  handle, 
and  which  looked  like  a  small  cannon  ;  with  it  was 
an  ingenious  bent  tube  of  tin  by  which  the  water 


Iron-work  in  Court  of  Colt  Mansion,   Bristol 
Rhode  Island. 


Garden  Furnishings  391 

could  be  thrown  in  "great  droppes"  like  a  fountain. 
The  author  says  of  ordinary  means  of  garden  water- 
ing: — 

"The  common  Watring  Pot  with  us  hath  a  narrow 
Neck,  a  Big  Belly,  Somewhat  large  Bottome,  and  full  of 
little  holes  with  a  proper  hole  forced  in  the  head  to  take  in 
the  water;  which  filled  full  and  the  Thumbe  laid  on  the 
hole  to  keep  in  the  aire  may  in  such  wise  be  carried  in 
handsome  Manner." 

Garden  tools  have  changed  but  little  since  Tudor 
days ;  spade  and  rake  were  like  ours  to-day,  so 
were  dibble  and  mattock.  Even  grafting  and  prun- 
ing tools,  shown  in  books  of  husbandry,  were  sur- 
prisingly like  our  own.  Scythes  were  much  heavier 
and  clumsier.  An  old  fellow  is  here  shown  sharpen- 
ing in  the  ancient  manner  a  scythe  about  three 
hundred  years  old. 

The  art  of  grafting,  known  since  early  days, 
formed  an  important  part  of  the  gardener's  craft. 
Large  share  of  ancient  garden  treatises  is  devoted  to 
minute  instructions  therein.  To  this  day  in  New 
England  towns  a  good  grafter  is  a  local  autocrat. 

Beehives  were  once  found  in  every  garden  ;  bee- 
skepes  they  were  called  when  made  of  straw.  Pic- 
turesque and  homely  were  the  old  straw  beehives,  and 
still  are  they  used  in  England ;  the  old  one  shown 
in  the  chapter  on  sun-dials  can  scarcely  be  mated  in 
America.  They  served  as  a  conventional  emblem 
of  industry.  They  were  made  of  welts  or  ropes  of 
twisted  straw,  as  were  the  heavy  winnowing  skepes 
once  used  for  winnowing  grain.  In  Maine,  in  a  few 


392 


Old  Time  Gardens 


out-of-the-way  communities, ancient  men  still  winnow 
grain  with  these  skepes.      I  saw  a  man  last  autumn, 


Summer-house  at  Ravensworth. 


a  giant  in  stature,  standing  in  a  dull  light  on  the 
crown  of  a  hill  winnowing  wheat  in   one  of  these 


Sharpening  the  Old  Dutch  Scythe. 


Garden  Furnishings  39.3 

great  skepes  with  an  indescribably  free  and  noble 
gesture.  He  was  a  classic,  a  relic  of  Homer's  age, 
no  longer  a  farmer,  but  a  husbandman.  Bees  and 
honey  were  of  much  value  in  ancient  days.  Honey 
was  the  chief  ingredient  in  many  wholesome  and 
pleasing  drinks  —  mead,  metheglin,  bragget  (or  bra- 
ket),  morat,  erboule  —  all  very  delightful  in  their 
ingredients,  .redolent  of  meadows  and  hedge-rows; 
thus  Cowslip  mead  was  made  of  Cowslip  "  pips," 
honey,  Lemon  juice,  and  "  a  handful  of  Sweet- 
brier."  "  Athol  porridge,"  demure  of  name,  was  as 
potent  as  pleasing  —  potent  as  good  honey,  good 
cream,  and  good  whiskey  could  make  it. 

Rows  of  typical  Southern  beehives  are  shown  in 
the  two  succeeding  illustrations.  From  their  home 
by  the  side  of  a  White  Rose  and  under  an  old 
Sweet  Apple  tree  these  Waterford  bees  did  not  wish 
to  swarm  out  in  a  hurry  to  find  a  new  home.  These 
beehives  are  not  very  ancient  in  shape,  but  when 
I  see  a  row  of  them  set  thus  under  the  trees, 
or  in  a  hive-shelter,  they  seem  to  tell  of  olden 
days.  The  very  bees  flying  in  an  out  seem  steady- 
going,  respectable  old  fellows.  Such  hives  have  a 
cosy  look,  with  rows  of  Hollyhocks  behind  them, 
and  hundreds  of  spires  of  Larkspur  for  these  old 
bees  to  bury  their  heads  in. 

The  sadly  picturesque  old  superstition  of  "  telling 
the  bees"  of  a  death  in  a  family  and  hanging  a  bit 
of  black  cloth  on  the  hives  as  a  mourning-weed  still 
is  observed  in  some  country  communities.  Whit- 
tier's  poem  on  the  subject  is  wonderfully  "  countri- 
fied "  in  atmosphere,  using  the  word  chore-girl,  so 


394  Old  Time  Gardens 

seldom  heard  even  in  familiar  speech  to-day  and 
never  found  in  verse  elsewhere  than  in  this  rustic 
poem.  I  saw  one  summer  in  Narragansett,  on 
Stony  Lane,  not  far  from  the  old  Six-Principle 
Church,  a  row  of  beehives  hung  with  strips  of 
black  cloth ;  the  house  mistress  was  dead  —  the 
friend  of  bird  and  beast  and  bee  —  who  had  reared 
the  guardian  of  the  garden  told  of  on  page  396 
et  seq. 

A  pretty  and  appropriate  garden  furnishing  was 
the  dove-cote.  The  possession  of  a  dove-cote  in 
England,  and  the  rearing  of  pigeons,  was  free  only  to 
lords  of  the  manor  and  noblemen.  When  the  colo- 
nists came  to  America,  many  of  them  had  never  been 
permitted  to  keep  pigeons.  In  Scotland  persistent 
attemps  at  pigeon-raising  by  folks  of  humble  station 
might  be  punished  with  death.  The  settlers  must 
have  revelled  in  the  freedom  of  the  new  land,  as  well 
as  in  the  plenty  of  pigeons,  both  wild  and  domestic. 
In  old  England  the  dove-cote  was  often  built  close 
to  the  kitchen  door,  that  squab  and  pigeon  might 
be  near  the  hand  of  the  cook.  Dove-cotes  in  Amer- 
ica were  often  simple  boxes  or  houses  raised  on  stout 
posts.  Occasionally  might  be  seen  a  fine  brick  dove- 
cote like  the  one  still  standing  at  Shirley-on-the- 
James,  in  Virginia,  which  is  shaped  without  and 
within  like  several  famous  old  dove-cotes  in  England, 
among  them  the  one  at  Athelhampton  Hall,  Dorches- 
ter, England.  The  English  dove-cote  has  within 
a  revolving  ladder  hung  from  a  central  post  while 
the  Virginian  squab  catcher  uses  an  ordinary  ladder. 
The  shelves  for  the  birds  to  rest  upon  and  the  square 


Garden  Furnishings 


395 


recesses  for  the  nests  made  by  the  ingenious  plac- 
ing of  the  bricks  are  alike  in  both  cotes. 

A  beautiful  and  fitting  tenant  of  old  formal  gar- 
dens was  the  peacock,  "with  his  aungelis  federys 
bryghte."  On  large  English  estates  peacocks  were 
universally  kept.  A  fine  peacock,  with  full-spread 


Beehives  under  the  Trees. 

tail,  makes  many  a  gay  flower  bed  pale  before 
his  panoply  of  iridescence  and  color.  The  pea- 
hen is  a  demurely  pretty  creature.  Peacocks  are 
not  altogether  grateful  to  garden  owners  ;  on  the 
old  Narragansett  farm  whose  garden  is  shown 
on  page  35,  they  were  always  kept,  and  it  was 
one  of  the  prides  and  pleasures  of  formal  hospi- 


396  Old  Time  Gardens 

tality  to  offer  a  roasted  peacock  to  visitors.  But, 
save  when  roasted,  the  vain  creatures  would  not 
keep  silence,  and  when  they  squawked  the  glory 
of  their  plumage  was  forgotten.  They  had  an 
odious  habit,  too,  of  wandering  off  to  distant  groves 
on  the  farm,  usually  selecting  the  nights  of  bitterest 
cold,  and  roosting  in  some  very  high  tree,  in  some 
very  inaccessible  spot.  They  could  not  be  left  in 
this  ill-considered  sleeping-place,  else  they  would 
all  freeze  to  death  ;  and  words  fail  to  tell  the  labor 
in  lowering  twilight  and  temperature  of  discovering 
their  retreat,  the  dislodging,  capturing,  and  imprison- 
ing them. 

In  Narragansett  there  is  a  charming  old  farm 
garden,  which  I  often  visit  to  note  and  admire  its 
old-time  blossoms.  This  garden  has  a  guardian,  who 
haunts  the  garden  walks  as  did  the  terrace  peacock 
of  old  England ;  no  watch-dog  ever  was  so  faithful, 
and  none  half  so  acute.  When  I  visit  the  garden  I 
always  ask  "  Where  is  Job  ?  "  I  am  answered  that 
he  is  in  the  field  with  the  cattle.  Sometimes  this  is 
true,  but  at  other  times  Job  has  left  the  field  and  is 
attending  to  his  assumed  duties.  As  he  is  not  en- 
couraged, he  has  learned  great  slyness  and  dissimu- 
lation. Immovable,  and  in  silence,  Job  is  concealed 
behind  a  Syringa  hedge  or  in  a  Lilac  ambush,  and  as 
you  stroll  peacefully  and  unwittingly  down  the  paths, 
sniffing  the  honeyed  sweetness  of  the  dense  edging 
of  Sweet  Alyssum,  all  is  as  balmy  as  the  blossoms. 
But  stoop  for  an  instant,  to  gather  some  leaves  of 
Sweet  Basil  or  Sweet  Brier,  or  to  collect  a  dozen 
seed-pods  of  that  specially  delicate  Sweet  Pea,  and 


Garden   Furnishings 


397 


lo  !  the  enemy  is  upon  you,  like  a  fierce  whirlwind. 
He  looks  mild  and  demure  enough  in  his  kitchen 
yard  retreat,  whereto,  upon  piercing  outcry  for  help> 
the  farmer  and  his  two  sons  have  haled  him,  and 


Dove-cote  at  Shirley-on-James. 

where  the  camera  has  caught  him.  But  far  from 
meek  is  his  aspect  when  you  are  dodging  him 
around  the  great  Tree  Peony,  or  flying  frantically 
before  him  down  the  side  path  to  the  garden  gate. 
This  fierce  wild  beast  was  once  that  mildest  of  crea- 


398 


Old  Time  Gardens 


tures  —  a  pet  lamb;  the  constant  companion  of  the 
farm-wife,  as  she  weeded  and  watered  her  loved  gar- 
den. Her  husband  says,  "  He  seems  to  think  folks 
are  stealing  her  flowers,  if  they  stop  to  look."  The 
wife  and  mother  of  these  three  great  men  has  gone 
from  her  garden  forever ;  but  a  tenderness  for  all 


The  Peacock  in  His  Pride. 

that  she  loved  makes  them  not  only  care  for  her 
flowers,  but  keeps  this  rampant  guardian  of  the  gar- 
den at  the  kitchen  door,  just  as  she  kept  him  when 
he  was  a  little  lamb.  I  knew  this  New  England 
farmer's  wife,  a  noble  woman,  of  infinite  tenderness, 
strength,  and  endurance;  a  lover  of  trees  and  flowers 
and  all  living  things,  and  I  marvel  not  that  they 
keep  her  memory  green. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

GARDEN    BOUNDARIES 

'  A  garden  fair  .    .    .    with  Wandis  long  and  small 
Railed  about,  and  so  with  trees  set 
Was  all  the  place  ;  and  Hawthorne  hedges  knet, 
That  lyf  was  none  walking  there  forbye 
That  might  within  scarce  any  wight  espy." 

—  Kings  ±%ubairt  KING  JAMES  I  OF  SCOTLAND. 

NE  who  reads  what  I  have  written 
in  these  pages  of  a  garden  enclosed, 
will  scarcely  doubt  that  to  me 
every  garden  must  have  bounda- 
ries, definite  and  high.  Three 
old  farm  boundaries  were  of  neces- 
sity garden  boundaries  in  early 
days  —  our  stone  walls,  rail  fences, 
and  hedge-rows.  The  first  two  seem  typically  Ameri- 
can ;  the  third  is  an  English  hedge  fashion.  Through- 
out New  England  the  great  boulders  were  blasted  to 
clear  the  rocky  fields ;  and  these,  with  the  smaller 
loose  stones,  were  gathered  into  vast  stone  walls. 
We  still  see  these  walls  around  fields  and  as  the 
boundaries  of  kitchen  gardens  and  farm  flower  gar- 
dens, and  delightful  walls  they  are,  resourceful  of 
beauty  to  the  inventive  gardener.  I  know  one  lovely 
garden  in  old  Narragansett,  on  a  farm  which  is  now 
the  country-seat  of  folk  of  great  wealth,  where  the 
399 


400 


Old  Time  Gardens 


old  stone  walls  are  the  pride  of  the  place  ;  and  the 
carefully  kept  garden  seems  set  in  a  beautiful  frame 
of  soft  gray  stones  and  flowering  vines.  These  walls 
would  be  more  beautiful  still  if  our  climate  would 
let  us  have  the  wall  gardens  of  old  England,  but 


The  Guardian  of  the  Garden. 


everything  here  becomes  too  dry  in  summer  for  wall 
gardens  to  flourish. 

Rhode  Island  farmers  for  two  centuries  have 
cleared  and  sheltered  the  scanty  soil  of  their  state  by 
blasting  the  ledges,  and  gathering  the  great  stones 


Garden   Boundaries  401 

of  ledge  and  field  into  splendid  stone  walls.  Their 
beauty  is  a  gift  to  the  farmer's  descendants  in  reward 
for  his  hours  of  bitter  and  wearying  toil.  One  of 
these  fine  stone  walls,  six  feet  in  height,  has  stood 
secure  and  unbroken  through  a  century  of  upheavals 
of  winter  frosts  —  which  it  was  too  broad  and  firmly 
built  to  heed.  It  stretches  from  the  Post  Road  in 
old  Narragansett,  through  field  and  meadow,  and  by 
the  side  of  the  oak  grove,  to  the  very  edge  of  the 
bay.  TO  the  waterside  one  afternoon  in  June  there 
strolled,  a  few  years  ago,  a  beautiful  young  girl  and 
a  somewhat  conscious  but  determined  young  man. 
They  seated  themselves  on  the  stone  wall  under  the 
flickering  shadow  of  a  great  Locust  tree,  then  in  full 
bloom.  The  air  was  sweet  with  the  honeyed  fragrance 
of  the  lovely  pendent  clusters  of  bloom,  and  bird  and 
bee  and  butterfly  hovered  around, — it  was  paradise. 
The  beauty  and  fitness  of  the  scene  so  stimulated  the 
young  man's  fancy  to  thoughts  and  words  of  love  that 
he  soon  burst  forth  to  his  companion  in  an  impas- 
sioned avowal  of  his  desire  to  make  her  his  wife. 
He  had  often  pictured  to  himself  that  some  time  he 
would  say  to  her  these  words,  and  he  had  seen  also 
in  his  hopes  the  looks  of  tender  affection  with  which 
she  would  reply.  What  was  his  amazement  to  be- 
hold that,  instead  of  blushes  and  tender  glances,  his 
words  of  love  were  met  by  an  apparently  frenzied 
stare  of  horror  and  disgust,  that  seemed  to  pierce 
through  him,  as  his  beloved  one  sprung  at  one 
bound  from  her  seat  by  his  side  on  the  high  stone 
wall,  and  ran  away  at  full  speed,  screaming  out,  "Oh, 
kill  him  !  kill  him  !  " 


402  Old  Time  Gardens 

Now  that  was  certainly  more  than  disconcerting  to 
the  warmest  of  lovers,  and  with  a  half-formed  dread 
that  the  suddenness  of  his  proposal  of  love  had 
turned  her  brain,  he  ran  after  her,  albeit  somewhat 
coolly,  and  soon  learned  the  reason  for  her  extraordi- 
nary behavior.  Emulous  of  the  tempting  serpent  of 
old,  a  great  black  snake,  Mr.  Bascanion  constrictor, 
had  said  complaisantly  to  himself:  "  Now  here  are 
a  fair  young  Adam  and  Eve  who  have  entered  un- 
invited my  Garden  of  Eden,  and  the  man  fancies  it 
is  not  good  for  him  to  be  alone,  but  I  will  have  a 
word  to  say  about  that.  I  will  come  to  her  with 
honied  words."  So  he  thrust  himself  up  between 
the  stones  of  the  wall,  and  advanced  persuasively 
upon  them,  behind  the  man's  back.  But  a  Yankee 
Eve  of  the  year  1 890  A.D.  is  not  that  simple  creature, 

the  Eve  of  the  year B.C.;  and  even  the  Father 

of  Evil  would  have  to  be  great  of  guile  to  succeed 
in  his  wiles  with  her. 

A  farm  servant  was  promptly  despatched  to  watch 
for  the  ill-mannered  and  intrusive  snake  who  —  as 
is  the  fashion  of  a  snake  —  had  grown  to  be  as  big 
as  a  boa-constrictor  after  he  vanished  ;  and  at  the 
end  of  the  week  once  more  the  heel  of  man  had 
bruised  the  serpent's  head,  and  the  third  party  in 
this  love  episode  lay  dead  in  his  six  feet  of  ugliness, 
a  silent  witness  to  the  truth  of  the  story. 

Throughout  Narragansett,  Locust  trees  have  a 
fashion  of  fringing  the  stone  walls  with  close  young 
growth,  and  shading  them  with  occasional  taller  trees. 

These  form  an  ideal  garden  boundary.  The  stone 
walls  also  gather  a  beautiful  growth  of  Clematis,  Brier, 


Terrace  Wall  at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor. 


Garden  Boundaries 


403 


wild  Peas,  and  Grapes;  but  they  form  a  clinging-place 
for  that  devil's  brood,  Poison  Ivy,  which  is  so  per- 
sistent in  growth  and  so  difficult  to  exterminate. 

The  old  worm  fence  was  distinctly  American ;  it 
had  a  zigzag  series  of  chestnut  rails,  with  stakes 
of  twisted  cedar  saplings  which  were  sometimes 
"chunked"  by 
moss  -  covered 
boulders  just 
peeping  from 
the  earth.  This 
worm  fence 
secured  to  the 
nature  lover 
and  to  wild  life 
a  strip  of  land 
eight  or  ten  feet 
wide,  whereon 
plant,  bird, 
beast,  reptile, 
andinsectflour- 
ished  and  re- 
produced. It 
has  been, within 
a  few  years,  a 

gardening  fashion  to  preserve  these  old  "  Virginia  " 
fences  on  country  places  of  considerable  elegance. 
Planted  with  Clematis,  Honeysuckle,  Trumpet  vine, 
Wistaria,  and  the  free-growing  new  Japanese  Roses, 
they  are  wonderfully  effective. 

On  Long  Island,  east  of  Riverhead,  where  there 
are  few  stones  to  form  stone  walls,  are  curious  and 


Rail  Fence  Corner. 


404 


Old  Time  Gardens 


picturesque  hedge-rows,  which  are  a  most  inter- 
esting and  characteristic  feature  of  the  landscape, 
and  they  are  beautiful  also,  as  I  have  seen  them  once 
or  twice,  at  the  end  of  an  old  garden.  These  hedge- 
rows were  thus  formed  :  when  a  field  was  cleared, 
a  row  of  young  saplings  of  varied  growth,  chiefly 


Topiary  Work  at  Levens  Hall. 


Oak,  Elder,  and  Ash,  was  left  to  form  the  hedge 
These  young  trees  were  cut  and  bent  over  parallel  to 
the  ground,  and  sometimes  interlaced  together  with 
dry  branches  and  vines.  Each  year  these  trees  were 
lopped,  and  new  sprouts  and  branches  permitted  to 
grow  only  in  the  line  of  the  hedge.  Soon  a  tangle 
of  briers  and  wild  vines  overgrew  and  netted  them 


Garden  Boundaries  405 

all  into  a  close,  impenetrable,  luxuriant  mass.  They 
were,  to  use  Wordsworth's  phrase,  "  scarcely  hedge- 
rows, but  lines  of  sportive  woods  run  wild."  In  this 
close  green  wall  birds  build  their  nests,  and  in  their 
shelter  burrow  wild  hares,  and  there  open  Violets 
and  other  firstlings  of  the  spring.  The  twisted  tree 
trunks  in  these  old  hedges  are  sometimes  three  or  four 
feet  in  diameter  one  way,  and  but  a  foot  or  more  the 
other;  they  were  a  shiftless  field-border,  as  they  took 
up  so  much  land,  but  they  were  sheep-proof.  The 
custom  of  making  a  dividing  line  by  a  row  of  bent 
and  polled  trees  still  remains,  even  where  the  close, 
tangled  hedge-row  has  disappeared  with  the  flocks 
of  sheep. 

These  hedge-rows  were  an  English  fashion  seen  in 
Hertfordshire  and  Suffolk.  On  commons  and  re- 
claimed land  they  took  the  place  of  the  quickset 
hedges  seen  around  richer  farm  lands.  The  bend- 
ing and  interlacing  was  called  plashing ;  the  polling, 
shrouding.  English  farmers  and  gardeners  paid  in- 
finite attention  to  their  hedges,  both  as  a  protection 
to  their  fields  and  as  a  means  of  firewood. 

There  is  something  very  pleasant  in  the  thought 
that  these  English  gentlemen  who  settled  eastern 
Long  Island,  the'  Gardiners,  Sylvesters,  Coxes,  and 
others,  retained  on  their  farm  lands  in  the  new  world 
the  customs  of  their  English  homes,  pleasanter  still 
to  know  that  their  descendants  for  centuries  kept  up 
these  homely  farm  fashions.  The  old  hedge-rows 
on  Long  Island  are  an  historical  record,  a  landmark 
—  long  may  they  linger.  On  some  of  the  finest 
estates  on  the  island  they  have  been  carefully  pre- 


406  Old  Time  Gardens 

served,  to  form  the  lower  boundary  of  a  garden, 
where,  laid  out  with  a  shaded,  grassy  walk  dividing 
it  from  the  flower  beds,  they  form  the  loveliest  of 
garden  limits.  Planted  skilfully  with  great  Art  to 
look  like  great  Nature,  with  edging  of  Elder  and 
Wild  Rose,  with  native  vines  and  an  occasional  con- 
genial garden  ally,  they  are  truly  unique. 

Yew  was  used  for  the  most  famous  English  hedges; 
and  as  neither  Yew  nor  Holly  thrive  here  —  though 
both  will  grow  —  I  fancy  that  is  why  we  have  ever 
had  in  comparison  so  few  hedges,  and  have  really  no 
very  ancient  ones,  though  in  old  letters  and  account 
books  we  read  of  the  planting  of  hedges  on  fine 
estates.  George  Washington  tried  it,  so  did  Adams, 
and  Jefferson,  and  Quincy.  Os'age  Orange,  Bar- 
berry, and  Privet  were  in  nurserymen's  lists,  but  it 
has  not  been  till  within  twenty  or  thirty  years  that 
Privet  has  become  so  popular.  In  Southern  gardens, 
Cypress  made  close,  good  garden  hedges  ;  and  Cedar 
hedges  fifty  or  sixty  years  old  are  seen.  Lilac  hedges 
were  unsatisfactory,  save  in  isolated  cases,  as  the  one 
at  Indian  Hill.  The  Japan  Quinces,  and  other  of 
the  Japanese  shrubs,  were  tried  in  hedges  in  the 
mid-century,  with  doubtful  success  as  hedges,  though 
they  form  lovely  rows  of  flowering  shrubs.  Snow- 
balls and  Snowberries,  Flowering  Currant,  Altheas, 
and  Locust,  all  have  been  used  for  hedge-planting, 
so  we  certainly  have  tried  faithfully  enough  to  have 
hedges  in  America.  Locust  hedges  are  most  grace- 
ful, they  cannot  be  clipped  closely.  I  saw  one  lovely 
creation  of  Locust,  set  with  an  occasional  Rose  Aca- 
cia—  and  the  Locust  thus  supported  the  brittle  Aca- 


Oval  Pergola  at  Arlington. 


Garden  Boundaries 


407 


cia.  If  it  were  successful,  it  would  be,  when  in  bloom, 
a  dream  of  beauty.  Hemlock  hedges  are  ever  fine, 
as  are  hemlock  trees  everywhere,  but  will  not  bear 
too  close  clipping.  Other  evergreens,  among  them 
the  varied  Spruces,  have  been  set  in  hedges,  but 


French  Homestead  with  old  Stone  Terrace,  Kingston,  Rhode  Island. 

have  not   proved   satisfactory  enough   to   be  much 
used. 

Buckthorn  was  a  century  ago  much  used  for  hedges 
and  arches.  When  Josiah  Quincy,  President  of 
Harvard  College,  was  in  Congress  in  1809,  ne  °b- 
tained  from  an  English  gardener,  in  Georgetown, 
Buckthorn  plants  for  hedges  in  his  Massachusetts 
home,  which  hedges  were  an  object  of  great  beauty 
for  many  years. 


408  Old  Time  Gardens 

The  traveller  Kalm  found  Privet  hedges  in  Penn- 
sylvania in  1760.  In  Scotland  Privet  is  called 
Primprint.  Primet  and  Primprivet  were  other  old 
names.  Box  was  called  Primpe.  These  were  all 
derivative  of  prim,  meaning  precise.  Our  Privet 
hedges,  new  as  they  are,  are  of  great  beauty  and 
satisfaction,  and  soon  will  rival  the  English  Yew 
hedges. 

I  have  never  yet  seen  the  garden  in  which  there 
was  not  some  boundary  or  line  which  could  be  filled 
to  advantage  by  a  hedge.  In  garden  great  or  garden 
small,  the  hedge  should  ever  have  a  place.  Often 
a  featureless  garden,  blooming  well,  yet  somehow 
unattractive,  has  been  completely  transformed  by 
the  planting  of  hedges.  They  seem,  too,  to  give 
such  an  orderly  aspect  to  the  garden.  In  level 
countries  hedges  are  specially  valuable.  I  cannot 
understand  why  some  denounce  clipped  hedges  and 
trees  as  against  nature.  A  clipped  hedge  is  just  as 
natural  as  the  cut  grass  of  a  lawn,  and  is  closely  akin 
to  it.  Others  think  hedges  "too  set"  ;  to  me  their 
finality  is  their  charm. 

Hedges  need  to  be  well  kept  to  be  pleasing. 
Chaucer  in  his  day  in  praising  a  "  hegge "  said 
that :  — 

"  Every  branche  and  leaf  must  grow  by  mesure 
Pleine  as  a  bord,  of  an  height  by  and  by." 

In  England,  hedge-clipping  has  ever  been  a  garden- 
ing art. 

In  the  old  English  garden  the  topiarist  was  an 
important  functionary.  Besides  his  clipping  shears 


Garden  Boundaries  409 

he  had  to  have  what  old-time  cooks  called  judgment 
or  faculty.  In  English  gardens  many  specimens  of 
topiary  work  still  exist,  maintained  usually  as  relics 
of  the  past  rather  than  as  a  modern  notion  of  the 
beautiful.  The  old  gardens  at  Levens  Hall,  page 
404,  contain  some  of  the  most  remarkable  examples. 
In  a  few  old  gardens  in  America,  especially  in 
Southern  towns,  traces  of  the  topiary  work  of  early 
years  can  be  seen;  these  overgrown,  uncertain  shapes 
have  a  curious  influence,  and  the  sentiment  awak- 
ened is  beautifully  described  by  Gabriele  d'  Annun- 


"  \Ve  walked  among  evergreens,  among  ancient  Box 
trees,  Laurels,  Myrtles,  whose  wild  old  age  had  forgotten  its 
early  discipline.  In  a  fgw  places  here  and  there  was  some 
trace  of  the  symmetrical  shapes  carved  once  upon  a  time 
by  the  gardener's  shears,  and  with  a  melancholy  not  unlike 
his  who  searches  on  old  tombstones  for  the  effigies  of  the 
forgotten  dead,  I  noted  carefully  among  the  silent  plants 
those  traces  of  humanity  not  altogether  obliterated." 

The  height  of  topiary  art  in  America  is  reached  in 
the  lovely  garden,  often  called  the  Italian  garden,  of 
Hollis  H.  Hunnewell,  Esq.,  at  Wellesley,  Massa- 
chusetts. Vernon  Lee  tells  in  her  charming  essay 
on  "  Italian  Gardens  "  of  the  beauty  of  gardens  with- 
out flowers,  and  this  garden  of  Mr.  Hunnewell  is  an 
admirable  example.  Though  the  effect  of  the  black 
and  white  of  the  pictured  representations  shown  on 
these  pages  is  perhaps  somewhat  sombre,  there  is 
nothing  sad  or  sombre  in  the  garden  itself.  The 
clear  gleam  of  marble  pavilions  and  balustrades,  the 


4io 


Old  Time  Gardens 


formal  rows  of  flower  jars  with  their  hundreds  of 
Century  plants,  and  the  lovely  light  on  the  lovely 
lake,  serve  as  a  delightful  contrast  to  the  clear,  clean 
lusty  green  of  the  clipped  trees.  This  garden  is  a 
beautiful  ex- 
ample of  the 
art  of  the  topi- 
arist,  not  in 
its  grotesque 
forms,  but  in 
the  shapes  liked 
by  Lord  Bacon, 
pyramids,  col- 
u  m  ns,  and 
"hedges  in 
welts,"  carefully 
studied  to  be 
both  stately  and 
graceful.  I  first 
saw  this  garden 
thirty  years  ago; 
it  was  interest- 
ing then  in  its 
well  thought- 
out  plan,  and  in 
the  perfection 
of  every  inch  of 
its  slow  growth  ; 

bu-t  how  much  more  beautiful  now,  when  the  gar- 
den's promise  is  fulfilled. 

The  editor  of  Country   Life  says  that  the  most 
notable   attempt  at  modern  topiary  work  in   Eng- 


Steps  in  Italian  Garden  at  Wellesley, 
Massachusetts. 


Garden   Boundaries  411 

land  is  at  Ascott,  the  seat  of  Mr.  Leopold  de 
Rothschild,  but  the  examples  there  have  not 
attained  a  growth  at  all  approaching  those  at 
Wellesley.  Mr.  Hunnewell  writes  thus  of  his 
garden  :  — 

"It  was  after  a  visit  to  Elvaston '  nearly  fifty  years  ago 
that  I  conceived  the  idea  of  making  a  collection  of  trees 
for  topiary  work  in  imitation  of  what  I  had  witnessed  at 
that  celebrated  estate.  As  suitable  trees  for  that  purpose 
could  not  be  obtained  at  the  nurseries  in  this  country,  and 
as  the  English  Yew  is  not  reliable  in  our  New  England 
climate,  I  was  obliged  to  make  the  best  selection  possible 
from  such  trees  as  had  proved  hardy  here  —  the  Pines, 
Spruces,  Hemlocks,  Junipers,  Arbor-vitae,  Cedars,  and 
Japanese  Retinosporas.  The  trees  were  all  very  small, 
and  for  the  first  twenty  years  their  growth  was  shortened 
twice  annually,  causing  them  to  take  a  close  and  compact 
habit,  comparing  favorably  in  that  respect  with  the  Yew. 
Many  of  them  are  now  more  than  forty  feet  in  height  and 
sixty  feet  in  circumference,  the  Hemlocks  especially  proving 
highly  successful." 

This  beautiful  example  of  art  in  nature  is  ever 
open  to  visitors,  and  the  number  of  such  visitors  is 
very  large.  It  is,  however,  but  one  of  the  many 
beauties  of  the  great  estate,  with  its  fine  garden  of 
Roses,  its  pavilion  of  splendid  Rhododendrons  and 
Azaleas,  its  uncommon  and  very  successful  rock 
garden,  and  its  magnificent  plantation  of  rare  trees. 
There  are  also  many  rows  of  fine  hedges  and  arches 
in  various  portions  of  the  grounds,  hedges  of  clipped 
Cedar  and  Hemlock,  many  of  them  twenty  feet 
high,  which  compare  well  in  condition,  symmetry, 


412 


Old  Time  Gardens 


and  extent  with  the  finest  English    hedges   on  the 
finest  English  estates. 

Through  the  great  number  of  formal  gardens 
laid  out  within  a  few  years  in  America,  the  topiary 
art  has  had  a  certain  revival.  In  California,  with 


Topiary  Work  in  California. 

the   lavish   foliage,  it  may  be   seen  in  considerable 
perfection,  though  of  scant  beauty,  as  here  shown. 

Happy  is  the  garden  surrounded  by  a  brick  wall 
or  with  terrace  wall  of  brick.  How  well  every  color 
looks  by  the  side  of  old  brick ;  even  scarlet,  bright 
pink,  and  rose-pink  flowers,  which  seem  impossible, 
do  very  well  when  held  to  the  wall  by  clear  green 
leaves.  Flowering  vines  are  perfect  when  trained 


Garden  Boundaries 


413 


on  old  soft-red  brick  enclosing  walls  ;  white-flowered 
vines  are  specially  lovely  thereon,  Clematis,  white 
Roses,  and  the  rarely  beautiful  white  Wistaria.  How 
lovely  is  my  Virgin's-bower  when  growing  on  brick  ; 


Serpentine  Brick  Wall  at  University  of  Virginia,  Charlottesville. 

how  Hollyhocks  stand  up  beside  it.  Brick  posts, 
too,  are  good  in  a  fence,  and,  better  still,  in  a  pergola. 
A  portion  of  the  fine  terrace  wall  at  Van  Cortlandt 
Manor  is  shown  facing  page  286.  This  wall  was 
put  in  about  fifty  years  ago  ;  ere  that  there  had  been 


414  Old  Time  Gardens 

a  grass  bank,  which  is  ever  a  trial  in  a  garden  ;  for  it 
is  hard  to  mow  the  grass  on  such  a  bank,  and  it  never 
looks  neat ;  it  should  be  planted  with  some  vine. 

A  very  curious  garden  wall  is  the  serpentine  brick 
wall  still  standing  at  the  University  of  Virginia,  at 
Charlottesville.  It  is  about  seven  feet  high,  and 
closes  in  the  garden  and  green  of  the  row  of  houses 
occupied  by  members  of  the  faculty;  originally 
it  may  have  extended  around  the  entire  college 
grounds.  I  present  a  view  from  the  street  in  order 
to  show  its  contour  distinctly  ;  within  the  garden  its 
outlines  are  obscured  by  vines  and  flowers.  The 
first  thought  in  the  mind  of  the  observer  is  that  its 
reason  for  curving  is  that  it  could  be  built  much 
more  lightly,  and  hence  more  cheaply,  than  a 
straight  wall ;  then  it  seems  a  possible  idealization 
in  brick  of  the  old  Virginia  rail  fence.  But  I  do 
not  look  to  domestic  patterns  and  influences  for  its 
production  ;  it  is  to  me  a  good  example  of  the  old- 
time  domination  of  French  ideas  which  was  so 
marked  and  so  disquieting  in  America.  In  France, 
after  the  peace  of  1762,  the  Marquis  de  Geradin 
was  revolutionizing  gardening.  His  own  garden  at 
Ermenonville  and  his  description  of  it  exercised  im- 
portant influence  in  England  and  America,  as  in 
France.  Jefferson  was  the  planner  and  architect  of 
the  University  of  Virginia;  and  it  is  stated  that  he 
built  this  serpentine  wall.  Whether  he  did  or  not, 
it  is  another  example  of  French  influences  in  archi- 
tecture in  the  United  States.  This  French  school, 
above  everything  else,  replaced  straight  lines  with 
carefully  curving  and  winding  lines. 


CHAPTER   XX 

A    MOONLIGHT    GARDEN 

"  How  sweetly  smells  the  Honeysuckle 
In  the  hush'd  night,  as  if  the  world  were  one 
Of  utter  peace  and  love  and  gentleness." 

—  WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR. 


ARDENS  fanciful  of  name,  a 
Saint's  Garden,  a  Friendship 
Garden,  have  been  planted  and 
cherished.  I  plant  a  garden 
like  none  other ;  not  an  every- 
day garden,  nor  indeed  a  garden 
of  any  day,  but  a  garden  for 
"  brave  moonshine,"  a  garden 
of  twilight  opening  and  midnight  bloom,  a  garden 
of  nocturnal  blossoms,  a  garden  of  white  blossoms, 
and  the  sweetest  garden  in  the  world.  It  is  a  garden 
of  my  dreams,  but  I  know  where  it  lies,  and  it  now 
is  smiling  back  at  this  very  harvest  moon. 

The  old  house  of  Hon.  Ben.  Perley  Poore  — 
Indian  Hill  —  at  Newburyport,  Massachusetts,  has 
been  for  many  years  one  of  the  loveliest  of  New 
England's  homes.  During  his  lifetime  it  had  ex- 
traordinary charms,  for  on  the  noble  hillside,  where 
grew  scattered  in  sunny  fields  and  pastures  every 
variety  of  native  tree  that  would  winter  New  Eng- 
land's snow  and  ice,  there  were  vast  herds  of  snow- 
415 


41 6  Old  Time  Gardens 

white  cows,  and  flocks  of  white  sheep,  and  the 
splendid  oxen  were  white.  White  pigeons  circled 
in  the  air  around  ample  dove-cotes,  and  the  farm- 
yard poultry  were  all  white  ;  an  enthusiastic  chronicler 
recounts  also  white  peacocks  on  the  wall,  but  these 
are  also  denied. 

On  every  side  were  old  terraced  walls  covered  with 
Roses  and  flowering  vines,  banked  with  shrubs,  and 
standing  in  beds  of  old-time  flowers  running  over 
with  bloom  ;  but  behind  the  house,  stretching  up 
the  lovely  hillside,  was  The  Garden,  and  when  we 
entered  it,  lo  !  it  was  a  White  Garden  with  edg- 
ings of  pure  and  seemly  white  Candytuft  from  the 
forcing  beds,  and  flowers  of  Spring  Snowflake  and 
Star  of  Bethlehem  and  Jonquils ;  and  there  were 
white-flowered  shrubs  of  spring,  the  earliest  Spiraeas 
and  Deutzias ;  the  doubled-flowered  Cherries  and 
Almonds  and  old  favorites,  such  as  Peter's  Wreath, 
all  white  and  wonderfully  expressive  of  a  simplicity,  a 
purity,  a  closeness  to  nature. 

I  saw  this  lovely  farmstead  and  radiant  White 
Garden  first  in  glowing  sunlight,  but  far  rarer  must 
have  been  its  charm  in  moonlight ;  though  the  white 
beasts  (as  English  hinds  call  cattle)  were  sleeping  in 
careful  shelter ;  and  the  white  dog,  assured  of  their 
safety,  was  silent ;  and  the  white  fowl  were  in  coop 
and  cote ;  and 

"  Only  the  white  sheep  were  sometimes  seen 
To  cross  the  strips  of  moon-blanch' d  green." 

But  the  White  Garden,  ah  !  then  the  garden  truly 
lived ;  it  was  like  lightest  snow  wreaths  bathed  in 


A  Moonlight  Garden  417 

silvery  moonshine,  with  every  radiant  flower  adoring 
the  moon  with  wide-open  eyes,  and  pouring  forth 
incense  at  her  altar.  And  it  was  peopled  with  shadowy 
forms  shaped  of  pearly  mists  and  dews ;  and  white 
night  moths  bore  messages  for  them  from  flower  to 
flower  —  this  garden  then  was  the  garden  of  my 
dreams. 

Thoreau  complained  to  himself  that  he  had  not 
put  duskiness  enough  into  his  words  in  his  descrip- 
tion of  his  evening  walks.  He  longed  to  have  the 
peculiar  and  classic  severity  of  his  sentences,  the 
color  of  his  style,  tell  his  readers  that  his  scene  was 
laid  at  night  without  saying  so  in  exact  words.  I, 
too,  have  not  written  as  I  wished,  by  moonlight ;  I 
can  tell  of  moonlight  in  the  garden,  but  I  desire 
more ;  I  want  you  to  see  and  feel  this  moonlight 
garden,  as  did  Emily  Dickinson  her  garden  by 
moonlight:  — 

"And  still  within  the  summer's  night 
A  something  so  transporting  bright 
I  clap  my  hands  to  see." 

But  perhaps  I  can  no  more  gather  it  into  words  than 
I  can  bottle  up  the  moonlight  itself. 

This  lovely  garden,  varied  in  shape,  and  extending 
in  many  and  diverse  directions  and  corners,  bears  as 
its  crown  a  magnificent  double  flower  border  over 
seven  hundred  feet  long;  with  a  broad  straight  path 
trimly  edged  with  Box  adown  through  its  centre,  and 
with  a  flower  border  twelve  feet  wide  on 'either  side. 
This  was  laid  out  and  planted  in  1833  by  the  parents 
of  Major  Poore,  after  extended  travel  in  England, 


41 8  Old  Time  Gardens 

and  doubtless  under  the  influences  of  the  beautiful 
English  flower  gardens  they  had  seen.  Its  length 
was  originally  broken  halfway  up  the  hill  and 
crowned  at  the  top  of  the  hill  by  some  formal  par- 
terres of  careful  design,  but  these  now  are  removed. 
There  are  graceful  arches  across  the  path,  one  of 
Honeysuckle  on  the  crown  of  the  hill,  from  which 
you  look  out  perhaps  into  Paradise  —  for  Indian 
Hill  in  June  is  a  very  close  neighbor  to  Paradise ; 
it  is  difficult  to  define  the  boundaries  between  the 
two,  and  to  me  it  would  be  hard  to  choose  between 
them. 

Standing  in  this  arch  on  this  fair  hill,  you  can  look 
down  the  long  flower  borders  of  color  and  per- 
fume to  the  old  house,  lying  in  the  heart  of  the  trees 
and  vines  and  flowers.  To  your  left  is  the  hill-sweep, 
bearing  the  splendid  grove,  an  arboretum  of  great 
native  trees,  planted  by  Major  Poore,  and  for  which 
he  received  the  prize  awarded  by  his  native  state 
to  the  finest  plantation  of  trees  within  its  bounds. 
Turn  from  the  house  and  garden,  and  look  through 
this  frame  of  vines  formed  by  the  arch  upon  this 
scene,  —  the  loveliest  to  me  of  any  on  earth,  —  a 
fair  New  England  summer  landscape.  Fields  of 
rich  corn  and  grain,  broken  at  times  with  the  gray 
granite  boulders  which  show  what  centuries  of  grand 
and  sturdy  toil  were  given  to  make  these  fer- 
tile fields;  ample  orchards  full  of  promise  of  fruit; 
placid  lakes  and  mill-dams  and  narrow  silvery  rivers, 
with  low-lying  red  brick  mills  embowered  in  trees; 
dark  forests  of  sombre  Pine  and  Cedar  and  Oak ; 
narrow  lanes  and  broad  highways  shaded  with  the 


A  Moonlight  Garden  419 

livelier  green  of  Elm  and  Maple  and  Birch ;  gray 
farm-houses  with  vast  barns  ;  little  towns  of  thrifty 
white  houses  clustered  around  slender  church-spires 
which,  set  thickly  over  this  sunny  land,  point  every- 
where to  heaven,  and  tell,  as  if  speaking,  the  story 
of  New  England's  past,  of  her  foundation  on  love  of 
God,  just  as  the  fields  and  orchards  and  highways 
speak  of  thrift  and  honesty  and  hard  labor ;  and 
the  houses,  such  as  this  of  Indian  Hill,  of  kindly 
neighborliness  and  substantial  comfort ;  and  as  this 
old  garden  speaks  of  a  love  of  the  beautiful,  a  refine- 
ment, an  aesthetic  and  tender  side  of  New  England 
character  which  we  know,  but  into  which  —  as  Mr. 
Underwood  says  in  Quabbin^  that  fine  study  of 
New  England  life  —  "  strangers  and  Kiplings  cannot 
enter." 

Seven  hundred  feet  of  double  flower  border,  four- 
teen hundred  feet  of  flower  bed,  twelve  feet  wide! 
"  It  do  swallow  no  end  of  plants,"  says  the  gar- 
dener." 

In  spite  of  the  banishing  dictum  of  many  artists 
in  regard  to  white  flowers  in  a  garden,  the  presence 
of  ample  variety  of  white  flowers  is  to  me  the 
greatest  factor  in  producing  harmony  and  beauty 
both  by  night  and  day.  White  seems  to  be  as 
important  a  foil  in  some  cases  as  green.  It  may 
sometimes  be  given  to  the  garden  in  other  ways 
than  through  flower  blossoms,  by  white  marble 
statues,  vases,  pedestals,  seats. 

We  all  like  the  approval  of  our  own  thoughts  by 
men  of  genius;  with  my  love  of  white  flowers  I  had 
infinite  gratification  in  these  words  of  Walter  Savage 


420  Old  Time  Gardens 

Lander's,   written    from    Florence   in    regard    to    a 
friend's  garden  :  — 

"I  like  white  flowers  better  than  any  others;  they  re- 
semble fair  women.  Lily,  Tuberose,  Orange,  and  the 
truly  English  Syringa  are  my  heart's  delight.  I  do  not 
mean  to  say  that  they  supplant  the  Rose  and  Violet  in  my 
affections,  for  these  are  our  first  loves,  before  we  grew  too 
fond  of  considering ;  and  too  fond  of  displaying  our  acquaint- 
ance with  others  of  sounding  titles." 

In  Japan,  where  flowers  have  rank,  white  flowers 
are  the  aristocrats.  I  deem  them  the  aristocrats  in 
the  gardens  of  the  Occident  also. 

Having  been  informed  of  Tennyson's  dislike  of 
white  flowers,  I  have  amused  myself  by  trying  to  dis- 
cover in  his  poems  evidence  of  such  aversion.  I 
think  one  possibly  might  note  an  indifference  to 
white  blossoms;  but  strong  color  sense,  his  love  of 
ample  and  rich  color,  would  naturally  make  him 
name  white  infrequently.  A  pretty  line  in  Walking 
to  .the  Mail  tells  of  a  girl  with  "a  skin  as  clean  and 
white  as  Privet  when  it  flowers  "  ;  and  there  were 
White  Lilies  and  Roses  and  milk-white  Acacias  in 
Maud's  garden. 

In  The  Last  Tournament  the  street-ways  are  de- 
picted as  hung  with  white  samite,  and  "  children  sat 
in  white,"  and  the  dames  and  damsels  were  all 
"  white-robed  in  honor  of  the  stainless  child."  A 
"  swarthy  one  "  cried  out  at  last :  — 

"  The  snowdrop  only,  flowering  thro'  the  year, 
Would  make  the  world  as  blank  as  wintertide. 


A  Moonlight  Garden  421 

Come  !  —  let  us  gladden  their  sad  eyes 

With  all  the  kindlier  colors  of  the  field. 

So  dame  and  damsel  glitter' d  at  the  feast 

Variously  gay.    .    .    . 

So  dame  and  damsel  cast  the  simple  white, 

And  glowing  in  all  colors,  the  live  grass, 

Rose-campion,  King-cup,  Bluebell,  Poppy,  glanced 

About  the  revels." 


Foxgloves  in  Lower  Garden  at  Indian  Hill. 

In  the  garden  borders  is  a  commonplace  little 
plant,  gray  of  foliage,  with  small,  drooping,  closed 
flowers  of  an  indifferently  dull  tint,  you  would  almost 
wonder  at  its  presence  among  its  gay  garden  fellows. 
Let  us  glance  at  it  in  the  twilight,  for  it  seems  like 
the  twilight,  a  soft,  shaded  gray  ;  but  the  flowers  have 
already  lifted  their  heads  and  opened  their  petals, 
and  they  now  seem  like  the  twilight  clouds  of  palest 


422  Old  Time  Gardens 

pink  and  lilac.  It  is  the  Night-scented  Stock,  and 
lavishly  through  the  still  night  it  pours  forth  its 
ineffable  fragrance.  A  single  plant,  thirty  feet  from 
an  open  window,  will  waft  its  perfume  into  the 
room.  This  white  Stock  was  a  favorite  flower,  of 
Marie  Antoinette,  under  its  French  name  the  Juli- 
enne. "  Night  Violets,"  is  its  appropriate  German 
name.  Hesperis  !  the  name  shows  its  habit.  Dame's 
Rocket  is  our  title  for  this  cheerful  old  favorite  of 
May,  which  shines  in  such  snowy  beauty  at  night, 
and  throws  forth  such  a  compelling  fragrance.  It  is 
rarely  found  in  our  gardens,  but  I  have  seen  it  grow- 
ing wild  by  the  roadside  in  secluded  spots  ;  not  in 
ample  sheets  of  growth  like  Bouncing  Bet,  which 
we  at  first  glance  thought  it  was ;  it  is  a  shyer  stray, 
blossoming  earlier  than  comely  Betsey. 

The  old-fashioned  single,  or  slightly  double,  coun- 
try Pink,  known  as  Snow  Pink  or  Star  Pink,  was 
often  used  as  an  edging  for  small  borders,  and  its  blu- 
ish green,  almost  gray,  foliage  was  quaint  in  effect  and 
beautiful  in  the  moonlight.  When  seen  at  night, 
the  reason  for  the  folk-name  is  evident.  Last  sum- 
mer, on  a  heavily  clouded  night  in  June,  in  a  cottage 
garden  at  West  Hampton,  borders  of  this  Snow  Pink 
shone  out  of  the  darkness  with  a  phosphorescent 
light,  like  hoar-frost,  on  every  grassy  leaf;  while  the 
hundreds  of  pale  pink  blossoms  seemed  softly  shin- 
ing stars.  It  was  a  curious  effect,  almost  wintry, 
even  in  midsummer.  The  scent  was  wafted  down 
the  garden  path,  and  along  the  country  road,  like  a 
concentrated  essence,  rather  than  a  fleeting  breath 
of  flowers.  One  of  these  cottage  borders  is  shown  on 


A  Moonlight  Garden  423 

page  292,    and  I   have  named  it  from  these  lines 
from  The  Garden  that  I  Love :  — 

"  A  running  ribbon  of  perfumed  snow 
Which  the  sun  is  melting  rapidly." 

At  sundown  the  beautiful  white  Day  Lily  opens 
and  gives  forth  all  night  an  overwhelming  sweetness  ; 
J  have  never  seen  night  moths  visiting  it,  though  I 
know  they  must,  since  a  few  seed  capsules  always 
form.  In  the  border  stand  — 

"Clumps  of  sunny  Phlox 
That  shine  at  dusk,  and  grow  more  deeply  sweet." 

These,  with  white  Petunias,  are  almost  unbearably 
cloying  in  their  heavy  odor.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that 
some  of  these  night-scented  flowers  are  positively 
offensive  in  the  daytime ;  try  your  Nicotiana  affinis 
next  midday  —  it  outpours  honeyed  sweetness  at 
night,  but  you  will  be  glad  it  withholds  its  perfume 
by  day.  The  plants  of  Nicotiana  were  first  intro- 
duced to  England  for  their  beauty,  sweet  scent,  and 
medicinal  qualities,  not  to  furnish  smoke.  Parkin- 
son in  1629  writes  of  Tobacco,  "  With  us  it  is  cher- 
ished for  medicinal  qualities  as  for  the  beauty  of  its 
flowers,"  and  Gerarde,  in  1633,  after  telling  of  the 
beauty,  etc.,  says  that  the  dried  leaves  are  "  taken  in 
a  pipe,  set  on  fire,  the  smoke  suckt  into  the  stomach, 
and  thrust  forth  at  the  noshtrils." 

Snake-root,  sometimes  called  Black  Cohosh  (Cimi- 
cifuga  raeemosa),  is  one  of  the  most  stately  wild 
flowers,  and  a  noble  addition  to  the  garden.  A 
picture  of  a  single  plant  gives  little  impression  of  its 


Old  Time  Gardens 


dignity  of  habit,  its  wonderfully  decorative  growth  ; 
but  the  succession  of  pure  white  spires,  standing  up 
several  feet  high  at  the  edge  of  a  swampy  field,  or 
in  a  garden,  partake  of  that  compelling  charm  which 
comes  from  tall  trees  of  slender  growth,  from  repe- 
tition and  association,  such  as  pine  trees,  rows  of 


Dame's  Rocke 


bayonets,  the  gathered  masts  of  a  harbor,  from 
stalks  of  corn  in  a  field,  from  rows  of  Foxglove  — 
from  all  "  serried  ranks."  I  must  not  conceal  the 
fact  of  its  horrible  odor,  which  might  exile  it  from  a 
small  garden. 

Among  my  beloved  white  flowers,  a  favorite 
among  those  who  are  all  favorites,  is  the  white  Col- 
umbine. Some  are  double,  but  the  common  single 


A  Moonlight  Garden  425 

white  Columbines  picture  far  better  the  derivation 
of  their  name ;  they  are  like  white  doves,  they  seem 
almost  an  emblematic  flower.  William  Morris 
says  :  — 

u  Be  very  shy  of  double  flowers  ;  choose  the  old  Colum- 
bine where  the  clustering  doves  are  unmistakable  and  dis- 
tinct, not  the  double  one,  where  they  run  into  mere  tatters. 
Don't  be  swindled  out  of  that  wonder  of  beauty,  a  single 
Snowdrop ;  there  is  no  gain  and  plenty  of  loss  in  the 
double  one." 

There  are  some  extremists,  such  as  Dr.  Forbes 
Watson,  who  condemn  all  double  flowers.  One 
thing  in  the  favor  of  double  blooms  is  that  their 
perfume  is  increased  with  their  petals.  Double  Vio- 
lets, Roses,  and  Pinks  seem  as  natural  now  as  single 
flowers  of  their  kinds.  I  confess  a  distinct  aversion 
to  the  thought  of  a  double  Lilac.  I  have  never  seen 
one,  though  the  Ranoncule,  said  to  be  very  fine,  costs 
but  forty  cents  a  plant,  and  hence  must  be  much 
grown. 

There  is  a  curious  influence  of  flower-color  which 
I  can  only  explain  by  giving  an  example.  We  think 
of  Iris,  Gladiolus,  Lupine,  and  even  Foxglove  and 
Poppy  as  flowers  of  a  warm  and  vivid  color ;  so  where 
we  see  them  a.  pure  white,  they  have  a  distinct  and 
compelling  effect  on  us,  pleasing,  but  a  little  eerie  ; 
not  a  surprise,  for  we  have  always  known  the  white 
varieties,  yet  not  exactly  what  we  are  wonted  to. 
This  has  nothing  of  the  grotesque,  as  is  produced 
by  the  albino  element  in  the  animal  world ;  it  is 
simply  a  trifle  mysterious.  White  Pansies  and 


426 


Old  Time  Gardens 


White  Violets  possess  this  quality  to  a  marked  de- 
gree. I  always  look  and  look  again  at  growing 
White  Violets.  A  friend  says :  "  Do  you  think 


Snake-root. 


A  Moonlight  Garden  427 

they  will  speak  to  you  ?  "  for  I  turn  to  them  with 
such  an  expectancy  of  something. 

The  "everlasting"  white  Pea  is  a  most  satisfac- 
tory plant  by  day  or  night.  Hedges  covered  with 
it  are  a  pure  delight.  Do  not  fear  to  plant  it 
with  liberal  hand.  Be  very  liberal,  too,  in  your 
garden  of  white  Foxgloves.  Even  if  the  garden 
be  small,  there  is  room  for  many  graceful  spires 
of  the  lovely  bells  to  shine  out  everywhere,  pierc- 
ing up  through  green  foliage  and  colored  blooms 
of  other  plants.  They  are  not  only  beautiful,  but 
they  are  flowers  of  sentiment  and  association,  en- 
deared to  childhood,  visited  of  bees,  among  the 
best  beloved  of  old-time  favorites.  They  consort 
well  with  nearly  every  other  flower,  and  certainly  with 
every  other  color,  and  they  seem  to  clarify  many  a 
crudely  or  dingily  tinted  flower ;  they  are  as  admir- 
able foils  as  they  are  principals  in  the  garden  scheme. 
In  England,  where  they  readily  grow  wild,  they  are 
often  planted  at  the  edge  of  a  wood,  or  to  form  vis- 
tas in  a  copse.  I  doubt  whether  they  would  thrive 
here  thus  planted,  but  they  are  admirable  when  set 
in  occasional  groups  to  show  in  pure  whiteness 
against  a  hedge.  I  say  in  occasional  groups,  for  the 
Foxglove  should  never  be  planted  in  exact  rows. 
The  White  Iris,  the  Iris  of  the  Florentine  Orris- 
root,  is  one  of  the  noblest  plants  of  the  whole  world  ; 
its  pure  petals  are  truly  hyaline  like  snow-ice,  like 
translucent  white  glass;  and  the  indescribably  beauti- 
ful drooping  lines  of  the  flowers  are  such  a  contrast 
with  the  defiant  erectness  of  the  fresh  green  leaves. 
Small  wonder  that  it  was  a  sacred  flower  of  the 


428  Old  Time  Gardens 

Greeks.  It  was  called  by  the  French  la  flambe 
blanche,  a  beautiful  poetic  title  —  the  White  Torch 
of  the  Garden. 

A  flower  of  mystery,  of  wonderment  to  children, 
was  the  Evening  Primrose ;  I  knew  the  garden 
variety  only  with  intimacy.  Possibly  the  wild 
flower  had  similar  charms  and  was  equally  weird  in 
the  gloaming,  but  it  grew  by  country  roadsides, 
and  I  was  never  outside  our  garden  limits  after 
nightfall,  so  I  know  not  its  evening  habits.  We 
had  in  our  garden  a  variety  known  as  the  California 
Evening  Primrose  —  a  giant  flower  as  tall  as  our 
heads.  My  mother  saw  its  pale  yellow  stars  shining 
in  the  early  evening  in  a  cottage  garden  on  Cape 
Ann,  and  was  there  given,  out  of  the  darkness,  by 
a  fellow  flower  lover,  the  seeds  which  have  afforded  to 
us  every  year  since  so  much  sentiment  and  pleas- 
ure. The  most  exquisite  description  of  the  Even- 
ing Primrose  is  given  by  Margaret  Deland  in  her 
Old  Garden :  — 

"  There  the  primrose  stands,  that  as  the  night 
Begins  to  gather,  and  the  dews  to  fall, 
Flings  wide  to  circling  moths  her  twisted  buds, 
That  shine  like  yellow  moons  with  pale  cold  glow, 
And  all  the  air  her  heavy  fragrance  floods, 
And  gives  largess  to  any  winds  that  blow. 
Here  in  warm  darkness  of  a  night  in  June, 
.   .   .   children  came 

To  watch  the  primrose  blow.      Silently  they  stood 
Hand  clasped  in  hand,  in  breathless  hush  around, 
And  saw  her  slyly  doff  her  soft  green  hood 
And  blossom  —  with  a  silken  burst  of  sound." 


The  Title-page  of  Parkinson's  Paradisi  in  So/is,  etc. 


A  Moonlight  Garden  429 

The  wild  Primrose  opens  slowly,  hesitatingly, 
it  trembles  open,  but  the  garden  Primrose  flares 
open. 

The  Evening  Primrose  is  usually  classed  with 
sweet-scented  flowers,  but  that  exact  observer, 
E.  V.  B.,  tells  of  its  "  repulsive  smell.  At  night 
if  the  stem  be  shaken,  or  if  the  flower-cup  trembles 
at  the  touch  of  a  moth  as  it  alights,  out  pours  the 
dreadful  odor."  I  do  not  know  that  any  other 
garden  flower  opens  with  a  distinct  sound.  Owen 
Meredith's  poem,  The  Aloe,  tells  that  the  Aloe 
opened  with  such  a  loud  explosive  report  that  the 
rooks  shrieked  and  folks  ran  out  of  the  house  to 
learn  whence  came  the  sound. 

The  tall  columns  of  the  Yucca  or  Adam's  Needle 
stood  like  shafts  of  marble  against  the  hedge  trees 
of  the  Indian  Hill  garden.  Their  beautiful  blooms 
are  a  miniature  of  those  of  the  great  Century  Plant. 
In  the  daytime  the  Yucca's  blossoms  hang  in 
scentless,  greenish  white  bells,  but  at  night  these 
bells  lift  up  their  heads  and  expand  with  great  stars 
of  light  and  odor  —  a  glorious  plant.  Around  their 
spire  of  luminous  bells  circle  pale  night  moths,  lured 
by  the  rich  fragrance.  Even  by  moonlight  we  can 
see  the  little  white  detached  fibres  at  the  edge  of  the 
leaves,  which  we  are  told  the  Mexican  women  used 
as  thread  to  sew  with.  And  we  children  used  to 
pull  off  the  strong  fibres  and  put  them  in  a  needle 
and  sew  with  them  too. 

When  I  see  those  Yuccas  in  bloom  I  fully  believe 
that  they  are  the  grandest  flowers  of  our  gardens  ; 
but  happily,  I  have  a  short  garden  memory,  so  I 


430 


Old  Time  Gardens 


mourn    not    the   Yucca   when    I    see    the   Anemone 
japonica  or  any  other  noble  white  garden  child. 


Yucca,  like  White  Marble  against  the  Evergreens. 

Here  at  the  end  of  the  garden  walk  is  an  arbor 
dark  with  the  shadow  of  great  leaves,  such  as  Ge- 
rarde  calls  "leaves  round  and  big  like  to  a  buckler." 


A  Moonlight  Garden  431 

But  out  of  that  shadowed  background  of  leaf  on 
leaf  shine  hundreds  of  pure,  pale  stars  of  sweetness 
and  light,  —  a  true  flower  of  the  night  in  fragrance, 
beauty,  and  name,  —  the  Moon-vine.  It  is  a  flower 
of  sentiment,  full  of  suggestion. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  ghost  in  a  garden  ?  I  do  so 
wish  I  could.  If  I  had  the  placing  of  ghosts,  I 
would  not  make  them  mope  round  in  stuffy  old 
bedrooms  and  garrets ;  but  would  place  one  here  in 
this  arbor  in  my  Moonlight  Garden.  But  if  I  did,  I 
have  no  doubt  she  would  take  up  a  hoe  or  a  watering- 
pot,  and  proceed  to  do  some  very  unghostlike  deed 
—  perhaps,  grub  up  weeds.  Longfellow  had  a 
ghost  in  his  garden  (page  142).  He  must  have 
mourned  when  he  found  it  was  only  a  clothes-line 
and  a  long  night-gown. 

It  was  the  favorite  tale  of  a  Swedish  old  lady  who 
lived  to  be  ninety-six  years  old,  of  a  discovery  of 
her  youth,  in  the  year  1762,  of  strange  flashes  of 
light  which  sparkled  out  of  the  flowers  of  the  Nas- 
turtium one  sultry  night.  I  suppose  the  average 
young  woman  of  the  average  education  of  the  day 
and  her  country  might  not  have  heeded  or  told  of 
this,  but  she  was  the  daughter  of  Linnaeus,  the  great 
botanist,  and  had  not  the  everyday  education. 

Then  great  Goethe  saw  and  wrote  of  similar  flashes 
of  light  around  Oriental  Poppies ;  and  soon  other 
folk  saw  them  also  —  naturalists  and  everyday  folk. 
Usually  yellow  flowers  were  found  to  display  this 
light — Marigolds,  orange  Lilies,  and  Sunflowers. 
Then  the  daughter  of  Linnaeus  reported  another 
curious  discovery  ;  she  certainly  turned  her  noctur- 


432  Old  Time  Gardens 

nal  rambles  in  her  garden  to  good  account.  She 
averred  she  had  set  fire  to  a  certain  gas  which  formed 
and  hung  around  the  FraxineUa,  and  that  the  igni- 
tion did  not  injure  the  plant.  This  assertion  was 
met  with  open  scoffing  and  disbelief,  which  has  never 
wholly  ceased ;  yet  the  popular  name  of  Gas  Plant 
indicates  a  widespread  confidence  in  this  quality  of 
the  FraxineUa  and  it  is  -easily  proved  true. 

Another  New  England  name  for  the  FraxineUa, 
given  me  from  the  owner  of  the  herb-garden  at 
Elmhurst,  is  "  Spitfire  Plant,"  because  the  seed-pods 
sizzle  so  when  a  lighted  match  is  applied  to  them. 

The  FraxineUa  is  a  sturdy,  hardy  flower.  There 
are  some  aged  plants  in  old  New  England  gardens  ; 
I  know  one  which  has  outlived  the  man  who  planted 
it,  his  son,  grandson,  and  great-grandson.  The 
FraxineUa  bears  a  tall  stem  with  Larkspur-like 
flowers  of  white  or  a  curious  dark  pink,  and  shin- 
ing Ash-like  leaves,  whence  its  name,  the  little 
Ash.  It  is  one  of  the  finest  plants  of  the  old-fash- 
ioned garden  ;  fine  in  bloom,  fine  in  habit  of  growth, 
and  it  even  has  decorative  seed  vessels.  It  is  as 
ready  of  scent  as  anything  in  the  garden  ;  if  you  but 
brush  against  leaf,  stem,  flower,  or  seed,  as  you  walk 
down  the  garden  path,  it  gives  forth  a  penetrating 
perfume,  that  you  think  at  first  is  like  Lemon,  then 
like  Anise,  then  like  Lavender ;  until  you  finally  de- 
cide it  is  like  nothing  save  FraxineUa.  As  with  the 
blossoms  of  the  Calycanthus  shrub,  you  can  never 
mistake  the  perfume,  when  once  you  know  it,  for 
anything  else.  It  is  a  scent  of  distinction.  Through 
this  individuality  it  is,  therefore,  full  of  associations, 
and  correspondingly  beloved. 


CHAPTER   XXI 


FLOWERS    OF    MYSTERY 

'Let  thy  upsoaring  vision  range  at  large 
This  garden  through  :   for  so  by  ray  divine 
Kindled,  thy  ken  a  magic  flight  shall  mount." 

—  GARY'S  Translation  of  Dante. 

OGIES  and  fairies,  a  sense  of  eeri- 
ness,  came  to  every  garden-bred 
child  of  any  imagination  in  connec- 
tion with  certain  flowers.  These 
flowers  seemed  to  be  regarded  thus 
through  no  special  rule  or  reason. 
With  some  there  may  have  been 
slight  associations  with  fairy  lore,  or  medicinal  usage, 
or  a  hint  of  meretriciousness.  Sometimes  the 
child  hardly  formulated  his  thought  of  the  flower, 
yet  the  dread  or  dislike  or  curiosity  existed.  My 
own  notions  were  absolutely  baseless,  and  usually 
absurd.  I  doubt  if  we  communicated  these  fancies 
to  each  other  save  in  a  few  cases,  as  of  the  Monk's- 
hood,  when  we  had  been  warned  that  the  flower  was 
poisonous. 

I  have  read  with  much  interest  Dr.  Forbes  Wat- 
son's account  of  plants  that  filled  his  childish  mind 
with  mysterious  awe  and  wonder  ;  among  them  were 

2F  433 


434  Old  Time  Gardens 

the  Spurge,  Henbane,  Rue,  Dogtooth  Violet,  Ni- 
gella,  and  pink  Marsh  Mallow.  The  latter  has  ever 
been  to  me  one  of  the  most  cheerful  of  blossoms.  I 
did  not  know  it  in  my  earliest  childhood,  and  never 
saw  it  in  gardens  till  recent  years.  It  is  too  close  a 
cousin  of  the  Hollyhock  ever  to  seem  to  me  aught 
but  a  happy  flower.  Henbane  and  Riie  I  did  not 
know,  but  I  share  his  feeling  toward-  the  others, 
though  I  could  not  carry  it  to  the  extent  of  fancy- 
ing these  the  plants  which  a  young  man  gathered, 
distilled,  and  gave  to  his  betrothed  as  a  poison. 

There  has  ever  been  much  uncanny  suggestion  in 
the  Cypress  Spurge.  I  never  should  have  picked  it 
had  I  found  it  in  trim  gardens  ;  but  I  saw  it  only  in 
forlorn  and  neglected  spots.  Perhaps  its  sombre 
tinge  may  come  now  from  association,  since  it  is 
often  seen  in  country  graveyards ;  and  I  heard  a 
country  woman  once  call  it  "  Graveyard  Ground 
Pine."  But  this  association  was  not  what  influ- 
enced my  childhood,  for  I  never  went  then  to  grave- 
yards. 

In  driving  along  our  New  England  roads  I  am 
ever  reminded  of  Parkinson's  dictum  that  "  Spurge 
once  planted  will  hardly  be  got  rid  out  again."  For 
by  every  decaying  old  house,  in  every  deserted  gar- 
den, and  by  the  roadside  where  houses  may  have  been, 
grows  and  spreads  this  Cypress  Spurge.  I  know  a 
large  orchard  in  Narragansett  from  which  grass  has 
wholly  vanished ;  it  has  been  crowded  out  by  the 
ugly  little  plant,  which  has  even  invaded  the  adjoin- 
ing woods. 

I  wonder  why  every  one  in  colonial  days  planted 


Flowers  of  Mystery  435 

it,  for  it  is  said  to  be  poisonous  in  its  contact  to  some 
folks,  and  virulently  poisonous  to  eat  —  though  I 
am  sure  no  one  ever  wanted  to  eat  it.  The  colo- 
nists even  brought  it  over  from  England,  when  we 
had  here  such  lovely  native  plants.  It  seldom 
flowers.  Old  New  England  names  for  it  are  Love- 
in-a-huddle  and  Seven  Sisters ;  not  over  significant, 
but  of  interest,  as  folk-names  always  are. 

I  join  with  Dr.  Forbes  Watson  in  finding  the 
Nigella  uncanny.  It  has  a  half-spidery  look,  that 
seems  ungracious  in  a  flower.  Its  names  are  curi- 
ous :  Love-in-a-mist,  Love-in-a-puzzle,  Love-in-a- 
tangle,  Puzzle-love,  Devil-in-a-bush,  Katherine- 
flowers  —  another  of  the  many  allusions  to  St. 
Katherine  and  her  wheel ;  and  the  persistent  styles 
do  resemble  the  spokes  of  a  wheel.  A  name  given 
it  in  a  cottage  garden  in  Wayland  was  Blue  Spider- 
flower,  which  seems  more  suited  than  that  of  Spider- 
wort  for  the  Tradescantia.  Spiderwort,  like  all 
"  three-cornered  "  flowers,  is  a  flower  of  mystery  ; 
and  so  little  cared  for  to-day  that  it  is  almost  ex- 
tinct in  our  gardens,  save  where  it  persists  in  out- 
of-the-way  spots.  A  splendid  clump  of  it  is  here 
shown,  which  grows  still  in  the  Worcester  garden 
I  so  loved  in  my  childhood.  In  this  plant  the 
old  imagined  tracings  of  spider's  legs  in  the  leaves 
can  scarce  be  seen.  With  the  fanciful  notion  of 
"  like  curing  like  "  ever  found  in  old  medical  recipes, 
Gerarde  says,  vaguely,  the  leaves  are  good  for 
"  the  Bite  of  that  Great  Spider,"  a  creature  also  of 
mystery. 

Perhaps    if    the    clear    blue   flowers    kept   open 


436 


Old  Time  Gardens 


throughout  the  day,  the  Spiderwort  would  be  more 
tolerated,  for  this  picture  certainly  has  a  Japanesque 
appearance,  and  what  we  must  acknowledge  was  far 
more  characteristic  of  old-time  flowers  than  of  many 

new  ones,  a 
wonderful  indi- 
viduality; there 
was  no  sameness 
of  outline.  I 
could  draw  the 
outline  of  a 
dozen  blossoms 
of  our  modern 
gardens,  and 
you  could  not 
in  a  careless 
glance  distin- 
guish one  from 
the  other :  Cos- 
mos, Anemone 
japonic  a,)  single 
Dahlias,  and 
Sunflowers, 
Gaillardia,  Ga- 
zanias,  all  such 
simple  Rose 
forms. 

There  was  a 

quaint  and  mysterious  annual  in  ancient  gardens, 
called  Shell  flower,  or  Molucca  Balm,  which  is  not 
found  now  even  on  seedsmen's  special  lists  of  old- 
fashioned  plants.  The  flower  was  white,  pink- 


Love-in-a-mist. 


Flowers  of  Mystery  437 

tipped,  and  set  in  a  cup-shaped  calyx  an  inch 
long,  which  was  bigger  than  the  flower  itself.  The 
plant  stood  two  or  three  feet  high,  and  the  sweet- 
scented  flowers  were  in  whorls  of  five  or  six  on  a 
stem.  It  is  a  good  example  of  my  assertion  that 
the  old  flowers  had  queerer  shapes  than  modern  ones, 
and  were  made  of  queer  materials  ;  the  calyx  of  this 
Shell  flower  is  of  such  singular  quality  and  fibre. 

The  Dog-tooth  Violet  always  had  to  me  a  sickly 
look,  but  its  leaves  give  it  its  special  ofTensiveness  ; 
all  spotted  leaves,  or  flower  petals  which  showed  the 
slightest  resemblance  to  the  markings  of  a  snake  or 
lizard,  always  filled  me  with  dislike.  Among  them 
I  included  Lungwort  (Pulmonaria),  a  flower  which 
seems  suddenly  to  have  disappeared  from  many 
gardens,  even  old-fashioned  ones,  just  as  it  has  dis- 
appeared from  medicine.  Not  a  gardener  could  be 
found  in  our  public  parks  in  New  York  who  had 
ever  seen  it,  or  knew  it,  though  there  is  in  Prospect 
Park  a  well-filled  and  noteworthy  "  Old-fashioned 
Garden."  Let  me  add,  in  passing,  that  nothing  in 
the  entire  park  system — greenhouses,  water  gardens, 
Italian  gardens  —  affords  such  delight  to  the  public 
as  this  old-fashioned  garden. 

The  changing  blue  and  pink  flowers  of  the  Lung- 
wort, somewhat  characteristic  of  its  family,  are  curious 
also.  This  plant  was  also  known  by  the  singular 
name  of  Joseph-and-Mary  ;  the  pink  flowers  being 
the  emblem  of  Joseph  ;  the  blue  of  the  Blessed  Vir- 
gin Mary.  Lady's-tears  was  an  allied  name,  from  a 
legend  that  the  Virgin  Mary's  tears  fell  on  the 
-eaves,  causing  the  white  spots  to  grow  in  them, 


438  Old  Time  Gardens 

and  that  one  of  her  blue  eyes  became  red  from  exces- 
sive weeping.  It  was  held  to  be  unlucky  even  to 
destroy  the  plant.  Soldier-and-his-wife  also  had 
reference  to  the  red  and  blue  tints  of  the  flower. 

A  cousin  of  the  Lungwort,  our  native  Mertensia 
virvittica,  has  in  the  young  plant  an  equally  singular 
leafage ;  every  ordinary  process  of  leaf  progress  is 
reversed  :  the  young  shoots  are  not  a  tender  green, 
but  are  almost  black,  and  change  gradually  in  leaf, 
stem,  and  flower  calyx  to  an  odd  light  green  in 
which  the  dark  color  lingers  in  veins  and  spots  until 
the  plant  is  in  its  full  flower  of  tender  blue,  lilac, 
and  pink.  "  Blue  and  pink  ladies  "  we  used  to  call 
the  blossoms  when  we  hung  them  on  pins  for  a 
fairy  dance. 

The  Alstrcemeria  is  another  spotted  flower  of  the 
old  borders,  curious  in  its  funnel-shaped  blooms, 
edged  and  lined  with  tiny  brown  and  green  spots. 
It  is  more  grotesque  than  beautiful,  but  was  beloved 
in  a  day  that  deemed  the  Tiger  Lily  the  most  beauti- 
ful of  all  lilies. 

The  aversion  I  feel  for  spotted  leaves  does  not 
extend  to  striped  ones,  though  I  care  little  for  varie- 
gated or  striped  foliage  in  a  garden.  I  like  the 
striped  white  and  green  leaves  of  one  variety  of  our 
garden  Iris,  and  of  our  common  Sweet  Flag  (Cala- 
mus), which  are  decorative  to  a  most  satisfactory 
degree.  The  firm  ribbon  leaves  of  the  striped 
Sweet  Flag  never  turn  brown  in  the  driest  summer, 
and  grow  very  tall  ;  a  tub  of  it  kept  well  watered  is 
a  thing  of  surprising  beauty,  and  the  plants  are  very 
handsome  in  the  rock  garden.  I  wonder  what  the 


Flowers  of  Mystery  439 

bees  seek  in  the  leaves !  they  throng  its  green  and 
white  blades  in  May,  finding  something,  I  am  sure, 
besides  the  delightful  scent ;  though  I  do  not  note 
that  they  pierce  the  veins  of  the  plant  for  the  sap, 
as  I  have  known  them  to  do  along  the  large  veins 
of  certain  palm  leaves.  I  have  seen  bees  often  act 
as  though  they  were  sniffing  a  flower  with  apprecia- 
tion, not  gathering  honey.  The  only  endeared 
striped  leaf  was  that  of  the  Striped  Grass  —  Gar- 
dener's Garters  we  called  it.  Clumps  of  it  growing 
at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor  are  here  shown.  We 
children  used  to  run  to  the  great  plants  of  Striped 
Grass  at  the  end  of  the  garden  as  to  a  toy  ribbon 
shop.  The  long  blades  of  Grass  looked  like  some 
antique  gauze  ribbons.  They  were  very  modish 
for  dolls'  wear,  very  useful  to  shape  pin-a-sights, 
those  very  useful  things,  and  very  pretty  to  tie  up 
posies.  Under  favorable  circumstances  this  garden 
child  might  become  a  garden  pest,  a  spreading  weed. 
I  never  saw  a  more  curious  garden  stray  than  an 
entire  dooryard  and  farm  garden  —  certainly  two 
acres  in  extent,  covered  with  Striped  Grass,  save 
where  a  few  persistent  Tiger  Lilies  pierced  through 
the  striped  leaves.  Even  among  the  deserted 
hearthstones  and  tumble-down  chimneys  the  striped 
leaves  ran  up  among  the  roofless  walls. 

Let  me  state  here  that  the  suggestion  of  mystery 
in  a  flower  did  not  always  make  me  dislike  it ;  some- 
times it  added  a  charm.  The  Periwinkle  —  Ground 
M  y rtle,  we  used  to  call  it  —  was  one  of  the  most  mys- 
terious and  elusive  flowers  I  knew,  and  other  chil 
dren  thus  regarded  it;  but  I  had  a  deep  affection 


440 


Old  Time  Gardens 


for  its  lovely  blue  stars  and  clean,  glossy  leaves,  a 
special   love,    since   it  was    the    first   flower   I   saw 


Gardener's  Garters,  at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor. 


blooming  out  of  doors  after  a  severe  illness,  and  it 
seemed  to  welcome  me  back  to  life. 


Flowers  of  Mystery  441 

The  name  is  from  the  French  Pervenche,  which 
suffers  sadly  by  being  changed  into  the  clumsy  Peri- 
winkle. Everywhere  it  is  a  flower  of  mystery ;  it 
is  the  "  Violette  des  Sorciers  "  of  the  French.  Sad- 
der is  its  Tuscan  name,  "  Flower  of  death,"  for  it  is 
used  there  as  garlands  at  the  burial  of  children  ; 
and  is  often  planted  on  graves,  just  as  it  is  here.  A 
far  happier  folk-name  was  Joy-of-the-ground,  and 
to  my  mind  better  suited  to  the  cheerful,  healthy 
little  plant. 

An  ancient  medical  manuscript  gives  this  descrip- 
tion of  the  Periwinkle,  which  for  directness  and 
lucidity  can  scarcely  be  excelled  :  — 

"  Parwyke  is  an  erbe  grene  of  colour, 
In  tyme  of  May  he  bereth  blue  flour. 
Ye  lef  is  thicke,  schinede  and  styf, 
As  is  ye  grene  jwy  lefe. 
Vnder  brod  and  uerhand  round, 
Men  call  it  ye  joy  of  grownde." 

On  the  list  of  the  Boston  seedsman  (given  on 
page  33  et  seq.}  is  Venus'-navelwort.  I  lingered  this 
summer  by  an  ancient  front  yard  in  Marblehead, 
and  in  the  shade  of  the  low-lying  gray-shingled 
house  I  saw  a  refined  plant  with  which  I  was  wholly 
unacquainted,  lying  like  a  little  dun  cloud  on  the 
border,  a  pleasing  plant  with  cinereous  foliage,  in 
color  like  the  silvery  gray  of  the  house,  shaded  with 
a  bluer  tint  and  bearing  a  dainty  milk-white  bloom. 
This  modest  flower  had  that  power  of  catching  the 
attention  in  spite  of  the  high  and  striking  colors  of 
its  neighbors,  such  as  a  simple  gown  of  gray  and 


442  Old  Time  Gardens 

white,  if  of  graceful  cut  and  shape,  will  have  among 
gay-colored  silk  attire  —  the  charm  of  Quaker  garb, 
even  though  its  shape  be  ugly.  You  know  how 
ready  is  the  owner  of  such  a  garden  to  talk  of  her 
favorites,  and  soon  I  was  told  that  this  plant  was 
"  Navy-work."  I  accepted  this  name  in  this  old 
maritime  town  as  possibly  a  local  folk-name,  yet  I 
was  puzzled  by  a  haunting  memory  of  having  heard 
some  similar  title.  A  later  search  in  a  botany  re- 
vealed the  original,  Venus'-navelwort. 

I  deem  it  right  to  state  in  this  connection  that  any 
such  corruption  of  the  old  name  of  a  flower  is  very 
unusual  in  Massachusetts,  where  the  English  tongue 
is  spoken  by  all  of  Massachusetts  descent  in  much 
purity  of  pronunciation. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  all  the  flowers  of  the  old 
garden  were  far  more  suggestive,  more  full  of  mean- 
ing, than  those  given  to  us  by  modern  florists.  This 
does  not  come  wholly  from  association,  as  many 
fancy,  but  from  an  inherent  quality  of  the  flower 
itself.  I  never  saw  Honeywort  (Cerinthe)  till  five 
years  ago,  and  then  it  was  not  in  an  old-fashioned 
garden ;  but  the  moment  I  beheld  the  graceful, 
drooping  flowers  in  the  flower  bed,  the  yellow  and 
purple-toothed  corolla  caught  my  eye,  as  it  caught 
my  fancy ;  it  seemed  to  mean  something.  I  was 
not  surprised  to  learn  that  it  was  an  ancient  favorite 
of  colonial  days.  The  leaves  of  Honeywort  are 
often  lightly  spotted,  which  may  be  one  of  its  ele- 
ments of  mystery.  Honeywort  is  seldom  seen  even 
in  our  oldest  gardens  ;  but  it  is  a  beautiful  flower  and 
a  most  hardy  annual,  and  deserves  to  be  reintroduced. 


Garden  Walk  at  The  Manse,  Deerfield,  Massachusetts. 


Flowers  of  Mystery  443 

A  great  favorite  in  the  old  garden  was  the  splen- 
did scarlet  Lychnis,  to  which  in  New  England  is 
given  the  name  of  London  Pride.  There  are  two 
old  varieties  :  one  has  four  petals  with  squared  ends, 
and  is  called,  from  the  shape  of  the  expanded  flower, 
the  Maltese  Cross ;  the  other,  called  Scarlet  Light- 
ning, is  shown  on  a  succeeding  page;  it  has  five 
deeply-nicked  petals.  It  is  a  flower  of  midsummer 
eve  and  magic  power,  and  I  think  it  must  have 
some  connection  with  the  Crusaders,  being  called  by 
Gerarde  Floure  of  Jerusalem,  and  Flower  of  Candy. 
The  five-petalled  form  is  rarely  seen  ;  in  one  old 
family  I  know  it  is  so  cherished,  and  deemed  so 
magic  a  home-maker,  that  every  bride  who  has  gone 
from  that  home  for  over  a  hundred  years  has  borne 
away  a  plant  of  that  London  Pride ;  it  has  really 
become  a  Family  Pride. 

Another  plant  of  mysterious  suggestion  was  the 
common  Plantain.  This  was  not  an  unaided  instinct 
of  my  childhood,  but  came  to  me  through  an  expla- 
nation of  the  lines  in  the  chapter,  "The  White 
Man's  Foot,"  in  Hiawatha  :  — 

«« Whereso'er  they  tread,  beneath  them 
Springs  a  flower  unknown  among  us  ; 
Springs  the  White  Man's  Foot  in  blossom." 

After  my  father  showed  me  the  Plantain  as  the 
"  White  Man's  Foot,"  I  ever  regarded  it  with  a  sense 
of  its  unusual  power ;  and  I  used  often  to  wonder, 
when  I  found  it  growing  in  the  grass,  who  had 
stepped  there.  I  have  permanently  associated  with 
the  Plantain  or  Waybred  a  curious  and  distasteful 


444  Old  Time  Gardens 

trick  of  my  memory.  We  recall  our  American 
humorist's  lament  over  the  haunting  lines  from  the 
car-conductor's  orders,  which  filled  his  brain  and  ears 
from  the  moment  he  read  them,  wholly  by  chance, 
and  which  he  tried  vainly  to  forget.  A  similar 
obsession  filled  me  when  I  read  the  spirited  apos- 
trophe to  the  Plantain  or  Waybred,  in  Cockayne's 
translation  of  ^Ifric's  Lacunga^  a  book  of  leech- 
craft  of  the  eleventh  century  :  — - 

"And  thou  Waybroad, 
Mother  of  worts, 
Over  thee  carts  creaked, 
Over  thee  Queens  rode, 
Over  thee  brides  bridalled, 
Over  thee  bulls  breathed, 
All  these  thou  withstoodst, 
Venom  and  vile  things, 
And  all  the  loathly  things, 
That  through  the  land  rove." 

I  could  not  thrust  them  out  of  my  mind ;  worse 
still,  I  kept  manufacturing  for  the  poem  scores  of 
lines  of  similar  metre.  I  never  shall  forget  the 
Plantain,  it  won't  let  me  forget  it. 

The  Orpine  was  a  flower  linked  with  tradition 
and  mystery  in  England,  there  were  scores  of  fanciful 
notions  connected  with  it.  It  has  grown  to  be  a 
spreading  weed  in  some  parts  of  New  Kngland,  but 
it  has  lost  both  its  mystery  and  its  flowers.  The 
only  bed  of  flowering  Orpine  I  ever  saw  in  America 
was  in  the  millyard  of  Miller  Rose  at  Kettle  Hole  — 
and  a  really  lovely  expanse  of  bloom  it  was,  broken 
only  by  old  worn  millstones  which  formed  the  door- 


Flowers  of  Mystery 


445 


steps.  He  told  with  pride  that  his  grandmother 
planted  it,  and  "it  was  the  flowering  variety  that  no 
one  else  had  in  Rhode  Island,  not  even  in  green- 
houses in  Newport."  Miller  Ross  ground  corn  meal 
and  flour  with  ancient  millstones,  and  infinitely  better 
were  his  grindings  than  "  store  meal."  He  could  tell 
you,  with  prolonged  detail,  of  the  new-fangled  roller 
he  bought  and  used 
one  week,  and  not  a 
decent  Johnny-cake 
could  be  made  from 
the  meal,  and  it 
shamed  him.  So  he 
threw  away  all  the 
meal  he  hadn't  sold ; 
and  then  the  new 
machinery  was  pulled 
out  and  the  millstones 
replaced,  "  to  await  the 
Lord's  coming,"  he 
added,  being  a  Second 
Adventist  —  or  by  his 
own  title  a  "Christa- 
delphian  and  an  Old 
Bachelor."  He  was  a 
famous  preacher,  hav- 
ing a  pulpit  built  of  heavy  stones,  in  the  woods  near 
his  mill.  A  little  trying  it  was  to  hear  the  outpour- 
ings of  his  long  sermons  on  summer  afternoons, 
while  you  waited  for  him  to  come  down  from  his 
pulpit  and  his  prophesyings  to  give  you  your  bag 
of  meal.  A  tithing  of  time  he  gave  each  day  to  the 


London  Pride. 


446  Old  Time  Gardens 

Lord,  two  hours  and  a  half  of  preaching  —  and 
doubtless  far  more  than  a  tithe  of  his  income  to 
the  poor.  In  sentimental  association  with  his  name, 
he  had  a  few  straggling  Roses  around  his  millyard 
—  all  old-time  varieties  ;  and,  with  Orpine  and  Sweet- 
brier,  he  could  gather  a  very  pretty  posy  for  all  who 
came  to  Kettle  Hole. 

We  constantly  read  of  Fritillaries  in  the  river  fields 
sung  of  Matthew  Arnold.  In  a  charming  book  of 
English  country  life,  Idlehurst^  I  read  how  closely 
the  flower  is  still  associated  with  Oxford  life,  recall- 
ing ever  the  Iffley  and  Kensington  meadows  to  all 
Oxford  men.  The  author  tells  that  "quite  unlikely 
sorts  of  men  used  to  pick  bunches  of  the  flowers, 
and  we  would  come  up  the  towpath  with  our  spoils." 
Fritillaries  grew  in  my  mother's  garden  ;  I  cannot 
now  recall  another  garden  in  America  where  I  have 
ever  seen  them  in  bloom.  They  certainly  are  not 
common.  On  a  succeeding  page  are  shown  the 
blossoms  of  the  white  Fritillary  my  mother  planted 
and  loved.  Can  you  not  believe  that  we  love  them 
still  ?  They  have  spread  but  little,  neither  have 
they  dwindled  nor  died.  Each  year  they  seem  to 
us  the  very  same  blossoms  she  loved. 

Our  cyclopaedias  of  gardening  tell  us  that  the 
Fritillaries  spread  freely  ;  but  E.  V.  B.  writes  of  them 
in  her  exquisite  English  :  "  Slow  in  growth  as  the 
Fritillaries  are,  they  are  ever  sure.  When  they  once 
take  root,  there  they  stay  forever,  with  a  constancy 
unknown  in  our  human  world.  They  may  be 
trusted,  however  late  their  coming.  In  the  fresh 
vigor  of  its  youth  was  there  ever  seen  any  other 


Flowers  of  Mystery  447 

flower  planned  so  exquisitely,  fashioned  so  slenderly  ! 
The  pink  symmetry  of  Kalmia  perhaps  comes  near- 
est this  perfection,  with  the  delicately  curved  and 
rounded  angles  of  its  bloom." 

In  no  garden,  no  mVcter  how  modern,  could  the 
Fritillaries  ever  look  to  me  aught  but  antique  and 
classic.  They  are  as  essentially  of  the  past,  even  to 
the  careless  eye,  as  an  antique  lamp  or  brazier. 
Quaint,  too,  is  the  fabric  of  their  coats,  like  some 
old  silken  stuff  of  paduasoy  or  sarsenet.  All  are 
checkered,  as  their  name  indicates.  Even  the  white 
flowers  bear  little  birthmarks  of  checkered  lines. 
They  were  among  the  famous  dancers  in  my  moth- 
er's garden,  and  I  can  tell  you  that  a  country  dance 
of  Fritillaries  in  plaided  kirtles  and  green  caps  is  a 
lively  sight.  Another  na.iie  for  this  queer  little 
flower  is  Guinea-hen  Flower.  Gerarde,  with  his 
felicity  of  description,  says:  — 

"  One  square  is  of  a  greenish-yellow  colour,  the  other 
purple,  keeping  the  same  order  as  well  on  the  back  side  of 
the  flower  as  on  the  inside  ;  although  they  are  blackish  in 
one  square,  and  of  a  violet  colour  in  another :  in  so  much 
that  every  leafe  (of  the  flower)  seemeth  to  be  the  feather  of 
a  Ginnie  hen,  whereof  it  took  its  name." 

A  strong  personal  trait  of  the  Fritillaries  (for  I 
may  so  speak  of  flowers  1  love)  is  their  air  of  mys- 
tery. They  mean  something  I  cannot  fathom  ;  they 
look  it,  but  cannot  tell  it.  Fritillaries  were  a  flower 
of  significance  even  in  Elizabethan  days.  They  were 
made  into  little  buttonhole  posies,  and,  as  Park- 
inson says,  "  worn  abroad  by  curious  lovers  of  these 


448  Old  Time  Gardens 

delights."  In  California  grow  wild  a  dozen  varie- 
ties ;  the  best  known  of  these  is  recurved,  but  it 
does  not  droop,  and  is  to  all  outward  glance  an 
Anemone,  and  has  lost  in  that  new  world  much  the 
mystery  of  the  old  herbalist's  "  Checker  Lily,"  save 
the  checkers  ;  these  always  are  visible. 

The  Cyclamen   and    Dodecatheon   lay  their  ears 
back  like  a  vicious  horse.      Both  have  an  eerie  aspect, 


White  Fritillaria. 

as  if  turned  upside  down,  as  has  also  the  Nightshade. 
I  knew  a  little  child,  a  flower  lover  from  babyhood, 
who  feared  to  touch  the  Cyclamen,  and  even  cried 
if  any  attempt  was  made  to  have  her  touch  the 
flower.  When  older,  she  said  that  she  had  feared 
the  flower  would  sting  her. 

I  have  often  a  sense  of  mysterious  meaning  in  a 
vine,  it  seems  so  plainly  to  reach  out  to  attract  your 


Flowers  of  Mystery  449 

attention.  I  recall  once  being  seated  on  the  door- 
step of  a  deserted  farm-house,  musing  a  little  over 
the  sad  thought  of  this  lost  home,  when  suddenly 
someone  tapped  me  on  the  cheek  —  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  say  some  thing,  though  it  seemed  a  human 
touch.  It  was  a  spray  of  Matrimony  vine,  twenty 
feet  long  or  more,  that  had  reached  around  a  corner, 
and  helped  by  a  breeze,  had  appealed  to  me  for  sym- 
pathy and  companionship.  I  answered  by  following 
it  around  the  corner.  It  had  been  trained  up  to  a 
little  shelf-like  ledge  or  roof,  over  what  had  been  a 
pantry  window,  and  hung  in  long  lines  of  heavy 
shade.  It  said  to  me:  "  Here  once  lived  a  flower- 
loving  woman  and  a  man  who  cared  for  her  comfort 
and  pleasure.  She  planted  me  when  she,  and  the 
man,  and  the  house  were  young,  and  he  made  the 
window  shelter,  and  trained  me  over  it,  to  make 
cool  and  green  the  window  where  she  worked.  I 
was  the  symbol  of  their  happy  married  love.  See  ! 
there  they  lie,  under  the  gray  stone  beneath  those 
cedars.  Their  children  all  are  far  away,  but  every 
year  I  grow  fresh  and  green,  though  I  find  it  lonely 
here  now."  To  me,  the  Matrimony  vine  is  ever  a 
plant  of  interest,  and  it  may  be  very  beautiful,  if 
cared  for.  On  page  186  is  shown  the  lovely  growth 
on  the  porch  at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor. 

With  a  sentiment  of  wonder  and  inquiry,  not  un- 
mixed with  mystery,  do  we  regard  many  flowers, 
which  are  described  in  our  botanies  as  Garden  Es- 
capes. This  Matrimony  vine  is  one  of  the  many 
creeping,  climbing  things  that  have  wandered  away 
from  houses.  Honeysuckles  and  Trumpet-vines 


450  Old  Time  Gardens 

are  far  travellers.  I  saw  once  in  a  remote  and  wild 
spot  a  great  boulder  surrounded  with  bushes  and 
all  were  covered  with  the  old  Coral  or  Trumpet 
Honeysuckle  ;  it  had  such  a  familiar  air,  and  yet 
seemed  to  have  gained  a  certain  knowingness  by  its 
travels. 

This  element  of  mystery  does  not  extend  to  the 
flowers  which  I  am  told  once  were  in  trim  gardens, 
but  which  I  have  never  seen  there,  such  as  Ox-eye 
Daisies,  Scotch  Thistles,  Chamomile,  Tansy,  Berga- 
mot,  Yarrow,  and  all  of  the  Mint  family  ;  they  are 
to  me  truly  wild.  But  when  I  find  flowers  still  cher- 
ished in  our  gardens,  growing  also  in  some  wild  spot, 
I  regard  them  with  wonder.  A  great  expanse  of  Co- 
reopsis, a  field  of  Grape  Hyacinth  or  Star  of  Bethle- 
hem, roadsides  of  Coronilla  or  Moneywort,  rows 
of  red  Day  Lily  and  Tiger  Lily,  patches  of  Sun- 
flowers or  Jerusalem  Artichokes,  all  are  matters  of 
thought;  we  long  to  trace  their  wanderings,  to  have 
them  tell  whence  and  how  they  came.  Bouncing 
Bet  is  too  cheerful  and  rollicking  a  wanderer  to 
awaken  sentiment.  How  gladly  has  she  been  wel- 
comed to  our  fields  and  roadsides.  I  could  not  will- 
ingly spare  her  in  our  country  drives,  even  to  become 
again  a  cherished  garden  dweller.  She  rivals  the  Suc- 
cory in  beautifying  arid  dust  heaps  and  barren  rail- 
road cuts,  with  her  tender  opalescent  pink  tints.  How 
wholesome  and  hearty  her  growth,  how  pleasant  her 
fragrance.  We  can  never  see  her  too  often,  nor  ever 
stigmatize  her,  as  have  been  so  many  of  our  garden 
escapes,  as  "  Now  a  dreaded  weed." 

One  of  the  weirdest  of  all  flowers  to  me  is  the 


Flowers  of  Mystery 


451 


Butter-and-eggs,  the  Toad-flax,  which  was  once  a 
garden  child,  but  has  run  away  from  gardens  to  wan- 
der in  every  field  in  the  land.  I  haven't  the  slight- 
est reason  for  this  regard  of  Butter-and-eggs,  and  I 
believe  it  is  peculiar  to  myself,  just  as  is  Dr.  Forbes 
Watson's  regard  of  the  Marshmallow  to  him.  I 


Bouncing  Bet. 

have  no  uncanny  or  sad  associations  with  it,  and  I 
never  heard  anything  "queer"  about  it.  Thirty 
years  ago,  in  a  locality  I  knew  well  in  central  Massa- 
chusetts, Butter-and-eggs  was  far  from  common  ;  I 
even  remember  the  first  time  I  saw  it  and  was  told 
its  quaint  name ;  now  it  grows  there  and  every- 
where ;  it  is  a  persistent  weed.  John  Burroughs 


452  Old  Time  Gardens 

calls  it  "  the  hateful  Toad-flax,"  and  old  Manasseh 
Cutler,  in  a  curious  mixture  of  compliment  and  slur, 
"a  common,  handsome,  tedious  weed."  It  travels 
above  ground  and  below  ground,  and  in  some  soils 
will  run  out  the  grass.  It  knows  how  to  allure  the 
bumblebee,  however,  and  has  honey  in  its  heart.  I 
think  it  a  lovely  flower,  though  it  is  queer ;  and  it  is 
a  delight  to  the  scientific  botanist,  in  the  delicate 
perfection  of  its  methods  and  means  of  fertilization. 

The  greatest  beauty  of  this  flower  is  in  late  au- 
tumn, when  it  springs  up  densely  in  shaven  fields. 
I  have  seen,  during  the  last  week  in  October,  fields 
entirely  filled  with  its  exquisite  sulphur-yellow  tint, 
one  of  the  most  delicate  colors  in  nature ;  a  yellow 
that  is  luminous  at  night,  and  is  rivalled  only  by  the 
pale  yellow  translucent  leaves  of  the  Moosewood  in 
late  autumn,  which  make  such  a  strange  pallid  light 
in  old  forests  in  the  North  —  a  light  which  dominates 
over  every  other  autumn  tint,  though  the  trees  which 
bear  them  are  so  spindling  and  low,  and  little  noted 
save  in  early  spring  in  their  rare  pinkness,  and  in 
this  their  autumn  etherealization.  And  the  Moose- 
wood  shares  the  mystery  of  the  Butter-and-eggs  as 
well  as  its  color.  I  should  be  afraid  to  drive  or 
walk  alone  in  a  wood  road,  when  the  Moosewood 
leaves  were  turning  yellow  in  autumn.  I  shall 
never  forget  them  in  Dublin,  New  Hampshire, 
driving  through  what  our  delightful  Yankee  chari- 
oteer and  guide  called  "  only  a  cat-road." 

This  was  to  me  a  new  use  of  the  word  cat  as  a 
prsenomen,  though  I  knew,  as  did  Dr.  Holmes  and 
Hosea  Biglow,  and  every  good  New  Englander, 


Flowers  of  Mystery  453 

that  "cat-sticks"  were  poor  spindling  sticks,  either 
growing  or  in  a  load  of  cut  wood.  I  heard  a  coun- 
try parson  say  as  he  regarded  ruefully  a  gift  of  a 
sled  load  of  firewood,  "  The  deacon's  load  is  all  cat- 
sticks."  Of  course  a  cat-stick  was  also  the  stick 
used  in  the  game  of  ball  called  tip-cat.  Myself 
when  young  did  much  practise  another  loved  ball 
game,  "one  old  cat,"  a  local  favorite,  perhaps  a  local 
name.  "  Cat-ice,"  too,  is  a  good  old  New  England 
word  and  thing;  it  is  the  thin  layer  of  brittle  ice 
formed  over  puddles,  from  under  which  the  water 
has  afterward  receded.  If  there  lives  a  New  Eng- 
lander  too  old  or  too  hurried  to  rejoice  in  stepping 
upon  and  crackling  the  first  "cat-ice"  on  a  late  au- 
tumn morning,  then  he  is  a  man  ;  for  no  New  Eng- 
land girl,  a  century  old,  could  be  thus  indifferent. 
It  is  akin  to  rustling  through  the  deep-lying  autumn 
leaves,  which  affords  a  pleasure  so  absurdly  dispro- 
portioned  and  inexplicable  that  it  is  almost  mysteri- 
ous. Some  of  us  gouty  ones,  alas  !  have  had  to 
give  up  the  "  cat-slides  "  which  were  also  such  a  de- 
light ;  the  little  stretches  of  glare  ice  to  which  we 
ran  a  few  steps  and  slid  rapidly  over  with  the  im- 
petus. But  I  must  not  let  my  New  England  folk- 
words  lure  me  away  from  my  subject,  even  on  a 
tempting  "  cat-slide." 

Though  garden  flowers  run  everywhere  that  they 
will,  they  are  not  easily  forced  to  become  wild 
flowers.  We  hear  much  of  the  pleasure  of  sowing 
garden  seeds  along  the  roadside,  and  children  are 
urged  to  make  beautiful  wild  gardens  to  be  the  delight 
of  passers-by.  Alphonse  Karr  wrote  most  charmingly 


454  O\d  Time  Gardens 

of  such  sowings,  and  he  pictured  the  delight  and  sur- 
prise of  country  folk  in  the  future  when  they  found 
the  choice  blooms,  and  the  confusion  of  learned  bota- 
nists in  years  to  come.  The  delight  and  surprise 
and  confusion  would  have  been  if  any  of  his  seeds 
sprouted  and  lived !  A  few  years  ago  a  kindly 
member  of  our  United  States  Congress  sent  to  me 
from  the  vast  seed  stores  of  our  national  Agricul- 
tural Department,  thousands  of  packages  of  seeds 
of  common  garden  flowers  to  be  given  to  the 
poor  children  in  public  kindergartens  and  pri- 
mary schools  in  our  great  city.  The  seeds  were 
given  to  hundreds  of  eager  flower  lovers,  but  starch 
boxes  and  old  tubs  and  flower  pots  formed  the 
limited  gardens  of  those  Irish  and  Italian  children, 
and  the  Government  had  sent  to  me  such  "  hats  full, 
sacks  full,  bushel-bags  full,"  that  I  was  left  with  an 
embarrassment  of  riches.  I  sent  them  to  Narragan- 
sett  and  amused  myself  thereafter  by  sowing  several 
pecks  of  garden  seeds  along  the  country  roadsides ; 
never,  to  my  knowledge,  did  one  seed  live  and  pro- 
duce a  plant.  I  watched  eagerly  for  certain  plant- 
ings of  Poppies,  Candytuft,  Morning-glories,  and 
even  the  indomitable  Portulaca;  not  one  appeared. 
I  don't  know  why  I  should  think  I  could  improve 
on  nature  ;  for  I  drove  through  that  road  yesterday 
and  it  was  radiant  with  Wild  Rose  bloom,  white 
Elder,  and  Meadow  Beauty ;  a  combination  that 
Thoreau  thought  and  that  I  think  could  not 
be  excelled  in  a  cultivated  garden.  Above  all, 
these  are  the  right  things  in  the  right  place,  which 
my  garden  plants  would  not  have  been.  I  am  sure 


Flowers  of  Mystery 


455 


that  if  they  had  lived  and  crowded  out  these  exquis- 
ite wild  flowers  I  should  have  been  sorry  enough. 
The  hardy  Colchicum  or  Autumnal  Crocus  is  sel- 
dom seen  in  our  gardens ;  nor  do  I  care  for  its  in- 
crease, even  when  planted  in  the  grass.  It  bears  to 
me  none  of  the  delight  which  accompanies  the  spring 
Crocus,  but  seems  to  be  out  of  keeping  with  the 


Fountain  at  Yaddo. 


autumnal  season.  Rising  bare  of  leaves,  it  has 
but  a  seminatural  aspect,  as  if  it  had  been  stuck 
rootless  in  the  ground  like  the  leafless,  stemless 
blooms  of  a  child's  posy  bed.  Its  English  name  — 
Naked  Boys  —  seems  suited  to  it.  The  Colchicum 
is  associated  in  my  mind  with  the  Indian  Pipe  and 
similar  growths  ;  it  is  curious,  but  it  isn't  pleasing. 
As  the  Indian  Pipe  could  not  be  lured  within  gar- 


456 


Old  Time  Gardens 


den  walls,  I  will  not  write  of  it  here,  save  to  say 
that  no  one  could  ever  see  it  growing  in  its  shadowy 
home  in  the  woods  without  yielding  to  its  air  of 


Avenue  of  White  Pines  at  Wellesley,  Mass.,  the  Country-seat  of  Hollis 
H.  Hunnewell,  Esq. 

mystery.  It  is  the  weirdest  flower  that  grows,  so 
palpably  ghastly  that  we  feel  almost  a  cheerful  sat- 
isfaction in  the  perfection  of  its  performance  and  our 


Flowers  of  Mystery  457 

own  responsive  thrill,  just  as  we  do  in  a  good  ghost 
story. 

Many  wild  flowers  which  we  have  transplanted  to 
our  gardens  are  full  of  magic  and  charm.  In  some, 
such  as  Thyme  and  Elder,  these  elements  come 
from  English  tradition.  In  other  flowers  the  quality 
of  mystery  is  inherent.  In  childhood  I  absolutely 
abhorred  Bloodroot ;  it  seemed  to  me  a  fearsome 
thing  when  first  I  picked  it.  I  remember  well  my 
dismay,  it  was  so  pure,  so  sleek,  so  innocent  of 
face,  yet  bleeding  at  a  touch,  like  a  murdered  man 
in  the  Blood  Ordeal. 

The  Trillium,  Wake-robin,  is  a  wonderful  flower. 
I  have  seen  it  growing  in  a  luxuriance  almost  beyond 
belief  in  lonely  Canadian  forests  on  the  Laurentian 
Mountains.  At  this  mining  settlement,  so  remote 
that  it  was  unvisited  even  by  the  omnipresent  and 
faithful  Canadian  priest,  was  a  wealth  of  plant  growth 
which  seemed  fairly  tropical.  The  starry  flowers  of 
the  Trillium  hung  on  long  peduncles,  and  the  two- 
inch  diameter  of  the  ordinary  blossom  was  doubled. 
The  Painted  Trillium  bore  rich  flowers  of  pink  and 
wine  color,  and  stood  four  or  five  feet  from  the 
ground.  I  think  no  one  had  ever  gathered  their 
blooms,  for  there  were  no  women  in  this  mining 
camp  save  a  few  French-Indian  servants  and  one 
Irish  cook,  and  no  educated  white  woman  had  ever 
been  within  fifty,  perhaps  a  hundred,  miles  of  the 
place.  Every  variety  of  bloom  seemed  of  exagger- 
ated growth,  but  the  Trillium  exceeded  all.  An 
element  of  mystery  surrounds  this  plant,  a  quality 
which  appertains  to  all  "  three-cornered "  flowers ; 


458  Old  Time  Gardens 

perhaps  there  may  be  some  significance  in  the  three- 
sided  form.  I  felt  this  influence  in  the  extreme 
when  in  the  presence  of  this  Canadian  Trillium,  so 
much  so  that  I  was  depressed  by  it  when  wandering 
alone  even  in  the  edge  of  the  forest ;  and  when  by 
light  o'  the  moon  I  peered  in  on  this  forest  garden, 
it  was  like  the  vision  of  a  troop  of  trembling  white 
ghosts,  stimulating  to  the  fancy.  It  was  but  a  part 
of  the  whole  influence  of  that  place,  which  was  full 
of  eerie  mystery.  For  after  the  countless  eons  of 
time  during  which  "  the  earth  was  without  form  and 
void,  and  darkness  was  upon  the  face  of  the  earth," 
the  waters  at  last  were  gathered  together  and  dry 
land  appeared.  And  that  dry  land  which  came  up 
slowly  out  of  the  face  of  the  waters  was  this  Lau- 
rentian  range.  And  when  at  God's  command  "  on 
the  third  day  "  the  earth  brought  forth  grass,  and 
herb  yielded  seed  —  lo,  among  the  things  which  were 
good  and  beautiful  there  shone  forth  upon  the  earth 
the  first  starry  flowers  of  the  white  Trillium. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

ROSES    OF    YESTERDAY 

"  Each  morn  a  thousand  Roses  brings,  you  say  ; 
Yes,  but  where  leaves  the  Rose  of  Yesterday  ?  " 

—  Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam,  translated  by  EDWARD  FITZGERALD,  1858. 

HE  answer  can  be  given  the 
Persian  poet  that  the  Rose  of 
Yesterday  leaves  again  in  the 
heart.  The  subtle  fragrance  of 
a  Rose  can  readily  conjure  in 
our  minds  a  dream  of  summers 
past,  and  happy  summers  to 
come.  Many  a  flower  lover  since 
Chaucer  has  felt  as  did  the  poet :  — 

"The  savour  of  the  Roses  swote 
Me  smote  right  to  the  herte  rote." 

The  old-time  Roses  possess  most  fully  this  hid- 
den power.  Sweetest  of  all  was  the  old  Cabbage 
Rose  —  called  by  some  the  Provence  Rose  —  for  its 
perfume  "  to  be  chronicled  and  chronicled,  and  cut 
and  chronicled,  and  all-to-be-praised."  Its  odor  is 
perfection  ;  it  is  the  standard  by  which  I  compare  all 
other  fragrances.  It  is  not  too  strong  nor  too  cloy- 
ing, as  are  some  Rose  scents;  it  is  the  idealization  of 
that  distinctive  sweetness  of  the  Rose  family  which 
459 


460  Old  Time  Gardens 

other  Roses  have  to  some  degree.  The  color  of  the 
Cabbage  Rose  is  very  warm  and  pleasing,  a  clear, 
happy  pink,  and  the  flower  has  a  wholesome,  open 
look  ;  but  it  is  not  a  beautiful  Rose  by  florists'  stand- 
ards, —  few  of  the  old  Roses  are,  —  and  it  is  rather 
awkward  in  growth.  The  Cabbage  Rose  is  said  to 
have  been  a  favorite  in  ancient  Rome.  I  wish  it  had 
a  prettier  name ;  it  is  certainly  worthy  one. 

The  Hundred-leaved  Rose  was  akin  to  the  Cab- 
bage Rose,  and  shared  its  delicious  fragrance.  In  its 
rather  irregular  shape  it  resembled  the  present  Duke 
of  Sussex  Rose. 

One  of  the  rarest  of  old-time  Roses  in  our  gar- 
dens to-day  is  the  red  and  white  mottled  York  and 
Lancaster.  It  is  as  old  as  the  sixteenth  century. 
Shakespeare  writes  in  the  Sonnets :  — 

"The  Roses  fearfully  in  thorns  did  stand 
One  blushing  shame,  another  white  despair. 
A  third,  nor  red,  nor  white,  had  stol'n  of  both." 

They  are  what  Chaucer  loved,  "  sweitie  roses  red, 
brode,  and  open  also,"  Roses  of  a  broad,  flat  expanse 
when  in  full  bloom  ;  they  have  a  cheerier,  heartier, 
more  gracious  look  than  many  of  the  new  Roses 
that  never  open  far  from  bud,  that  seem  so  pinched 
and  narrow.  What  ineffable  fragrance  do  they  pour 
out  from  every  wide-open  flower,  a  fragrance  that 
is  the  very  spirit  of  the  Oriental  Attar  of  Roses  ;  all 
the  sensuous  sweetness  of  the  attar  is  gone,  and 
only  that  which  is  purest  and  best  remains.  I  be- 
lieve, in  thinking  of  it,  that  it  equals  the  perfume 
of  the  Cabbage  Rose,  which,  ere  now,  I  have  always 


Roses  of  Yesterday 


461 


placed  first.  This  York  and  Lancaster  Rose  is  the 
Rosa  mundi^  —  the  rose  of  the  world.  A  fine  plant 
is  growing  in  Hawthorne's  old  home  in  Salem. 

Opposite  page  462  is  an  unusual  depiction  of  the 
century-old  York  and  Lancaster  Rose  still  growing 


Violets  in  Silver  Double  Coaster. 

and  flourishing  in  the  old  garden  at  Van  Cortlandt 
Manor.  It  is  from  one  of  the  few  photographs  which 
I  have  ever  seen  which  make  you  forgive  their  lack 
of  color.  The  vigor,  the  grace,  the  richness  of  this 
wonderful  Rose  certainly  are  fully  shown,  though  but 
in  black  and  white.  I  have  called  this  Rose  bush  a 
century  old;  it  is  doubtless  much  older,  but  it  does 


462  Old  Time  Gardens 

not  seem  old  ;  it  is  gifted  with  everlasting  youth. 
We  know  how  the  Persians  gather  before  a  single 
plant  in  flower;  they  spread  their  rugs,  and  pray 
before  it ;  and  sit  and  meditate  before  it ;  sip  sher- 
bet, play  the  lute  and  guitar  in  the  moonlight ;  bring 
their  friends  and  stand  as  in  a  vision,  then  talk  in 
praises  of  it,  and  then  all  serenade  it  with  an  ode 
from  Hafiz  and  depart.  So  would  I  gather  my 
friends  around  this  lovely  old  Rose,  and  share  its 
beauty  just  as  my  friends  at  the  manor-house  share 
it  with  me ;  and  as  the  Persians,  we  would  praise  it 
in  sunlight  and  by  moonlight,  and  sing  its  beauty  in 
verses.  This  York  and  Lancaster  Rose  was  known 
to  Parkinson  in  his  day  ;  it  is  his  Rosa  versicolor.  I 
wonder  why  so  few  modern  gardens  contain  this 
treasure.  1  know  it  does  not  rise  to  all  the  stand- 
ards of  the  modern  Rose  growers  ;  but  it  possesses 
something  better  —  it  has  a  living  spirit;  it  speaks 
of  history,  romance,  sentiment ;  it  awakens  inspira- 
tion and  thought,  it  has  an  ever  living  interest,  a 
significance.  I  wonder  whether  a  hundred  years 
from  now  any  one  will  stand  before  some  Crimson 
Rambler,  which  will  then  be  ancient,  and  feel  as  I 
do  before  this  York  and  Lancaster  goddess. 

The  fragrance  of  the  sweetest  Roses  —  the  Dam- 
ask, the  Cabbage,  the  York  and  Lancaster  —  is 
beyond  any  other  flower-scent,  it  is  irresistible,  en- 
thralling; you  cannot  leave  it.  You  can  push  aside 
a  Syringa,  a  Honeysuckle,  even  a  Mignonette,  but 
there  is  a  magic  something  which  binds  you  irrevo- 
cably to  the  Rose.  I  have  never  doubted  that  the 
Rose  has  some  compelling  quality  shared  not  by 


York  and  Lancaster  Rose. 


Roses  of  Yesterday  463 

other  flowers.  I  know  not  whether  it  comes  from  cen- 
turies of  establishment  as  a  race-symbol,  or  from  some 
inherent  witchery  of  the  plant,  but  it  certainly  exists. 
The  variety  of  Roses  known  to  old  American 
gardens,  as  to  English  gardens,  was  few.  The  Eng- 
lish Eglantine  was  quickly  established  here  in  gar- 
dens and  spread  to  roadsides.  The  small,  ragged, 
cheerful  little  Cinnamon  Rose,  now  chiefly  seen  as  a 
garden  stray,  is  undoubtedly  old.  This  Rose  dif- 
fuses its  faint  "  sinamon  smelle  "  when  the  petals  are 
dried.  Nearly  all  of  the  Roses  vaguely  thought  to 
be  one  or  two  hundred  years  old  date  only,  within 
our  ken,  to  the  earlier  years  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. The  Seven  Sisters  Rose,  imagined  by  the 
owner  of  many  a  Southern  garden  to  belong  to  colo- 
nial days,  is  one  of  the  family  Rosa  multiflora,  intro- 
duced from  Japan  to  England  by  Thunberg.  Its 
catalogue  name  is  Greville.  I  think  the  Seven  Sisters 
dates  back  to  1822.  The  clusters  of  little  double 
blooms  of  the  Seven  Sisters  are  not  among  our  beau- 
tiful Roses,  but  are  planted  by  the  house  mistress 
of  every  Southern  home  from  power  of  association, 
because  they  were  loved  by  her  grandmothers,  if 
not  by  more  distant  forbears.  The  crimson  Bour- 
saults  are  no  older.  They  came  from  the  Swiss  Alps 
and  therefore  are  hardy,  but  they  are  fussy  things, 
needing  much  pruning  and  pulling  out.  I  recall  that 
they  had  much  longer  prickles  than  the  other  roses 
in  our  garden.  The  beloved  little  Banksia  Rose  came 
from  China  in  1807.  The  Madame  Plantieris  a  hybrid 
China  Rose  of  much  popularity.  We  have  had  it 
about  seventy  or  eighty  years.  In  the  lovely  garden 


464  Old  Time  Gardens 

of  Mrs.  Mabel  Osgood  Wright,  author  of  Flowers 
and  Ferns  in  their  Haunts,  I  saw,  this  spring,  a 
giant  Madame  Plantier  which  had  over  five  thou- 
sand buds,  and  which  could  scarcely  be  equalled  in 
beauty  by  any  modern  Roses.  Its  photograph  gives 
scant  idea  of  its  size. 

What  gratitude  we  have  in  spring  to  the  Sweet- 
brier  !  How  early  in  the  year,  from  sprouting 
branch  and  curling  leaf,  it  begins  to  give  forth  its 
pure  odor !  Gracious  and  lavish  plant,  beloved  in 
scent  by  every  one,  you  have  no  rival  in  the  spring 

farden  with  its  pale  perfumes.     The  Sweetbrier  and 
hakespeare's  Musk  Rose  (Rosa  moschata]  are  said 
to  be  the  only  Roses  that  at  evening  pour  forth  their 
perfume;  the  others  are  what  Bacon  called  "fast  of 
their  odor." 

The  June  Rose,  called  by  many  the  Hedgehog 
Rose,  was,  I  think,  the  first  Rose  of  summer.  A 
sturdy  plant,  about  three  feet  in  height ;  set  thick 
with  briers,  it  well  deserved  its  folk  name.  The  flow- 
ers opened  into  a  saucer  of  richest  carmine,  as  fra- 
grant as  an  American  Beauty,  and  the  little  circles 
of  crimson  resembling  the  Rosa  rugosa  were  seen 
in  every  front  dooryard. 

In  the  Walpole  garden  from  whence  came  to  us 
our  beloved  Ambrosia,  was  an  ample  Box-edged 
flower  bed  which  my  mother  and  the  great-aunt 
called  The  Rosery.  One  cousin,  now  living,  recalls 
with  distinctness  its  charms  in  1 830 ;  for  it  was  beauti- 
ful, though  the  vast  riches  of  the  Rose-world  of 
China  and  Japan  had  not  reached  it.  There  grew 
in  it,  he  remembers.  Yellow  Scotch  Roses,  Sweet- 


Roses  of  Yesterday 


465 


brier  (or  Eglantine),  Cinnamon  Roses, White  Scotch 
Roses,  Damask  Roses,  Blush  Roses,  Dog  Roses  (the 
Canker-bloom  of  Shakespeare),  Black  Roses,  Bur- 
gundy Roses,  and  Moss  Roses.  The  last-named 
sensitive  creatures,  so  difficult  to  rear  with  satisfac- 
tion in  such  a  climate,  found  in  this  Rosery  by  the 


Cinnamon  Roses. 

river-side  some  exact  fitness  of  soil  or  surroundings, 
or  perhaps  of  fostering  care,  which  in  spite  of  the 
dampness  and  the  constant  tendency  of  all  Moss 
Roses  to  mildew,  made  them  blossom  in  unrivalled 
perfection.  I  remember  their  successors,  deplored 
as  much  inferior  to  the  Roses  of  1830,  and  they 
were  the  finest  Moss  Roses  I  ever  saw  blooming  in 
a  garden.  An  amusing  saying  of  some  of  the  village 


466  Old  Time  Gardens 

passers-by  (with  smaller  gardens  and  education) 
showed  the  universal  acknowledgment  of  the  perfec- 
tion of  these  Roses.  These  people  thought  the 
name  was  Morse  Roses  and  always  thus  termed 
them,  fancying  they  were  named  for  the  family  for 
whom  the  flowers  bloomed  in  such  beauty  and 
number. 

Among  the  other  Roses  named  by  my  cousin  I 
recall  the  White  Scotch  Rose,  sometimes  called  also 
the  Burnet-leaved  Rose.  It  was  very  fragrant,  and 
was  often  chosen  for  a  Sunday  posy.  There  were 
both  single  and  double  varieties. 

The  Blush  Rose  (Rosa  alba],  known  also  as 
Maiden's  blush,  was  much  esteemed  for  its  exquisite 
color;  it  could  be  distinguished  readily  by  the 
glaucous  hue  of  the  foliage,  which  always  looked 
like  the  leaves  of  artificial  roses.  It  was  easily 
blighted  ;  and  indeed  we  must  acknowledge  that  few 
of  the  old  Roses  were  as  certain  as  their  sturdy 
descendants. 

The  Damask  Rose  was  the  only  one  ever  used  in 
careful  families  and  by  careful  housekeepers  for  mak- 
ing rose-water.  There  was  a  Velvet  Rose,  darker 
than  the  Damask  and  low-growing,  evidently  the 
same  Rose.  Both  showed  plentiful  yd'°\v  stamens 
in  the  centres,  and  had  exquisite  rich  dark  leaves. 

The  old  Black  Rose  of  The  Rosery  was  so  suf- 
fused with  color-principle,  so  "color-flushing,"  that 
even  the  wood  had  black  and  dark  red  streaks.  Its 
petals  were  purple-black. 

The  Burgundy  Rose  was  of  the  Cabbage  Rose 
family  ;  its  flowers  were  very  small,  scarce  an  inch  in 


Roses  of  Yesterday  467 

diameter.  There  were  two  varieties :  the  one  my 
cousin  called  Little  Burgundy  had  clear  dark  red 
blossoms  ;  the  other,  white  with  pink  centres.  Both 
were  low-growing,  small  bushes  with  small  leaves. 
They  are  practically  vanished  Roses  —  wholly  out 
of  cultivation. 

We  had  other  tiny  roses ;  one  was  a  lovely  little 
Rose  creature  called  a  Fairy  Rose.  I  haven't  seen 
one  for  years.  As  I  recall  them,  the  Rose  plants 
were  never  a  foot  in  height,  and  had  dainty  little 
flower  rosettes  from  a  quarter  to  half  an  inch  in 
diameter  set  in  thick  clusters.  But  the  recalled 
dimensions  of  youth  vary  so  when  seen  actually  in 
the  cold  light  of  to-day  that  perhaps  I  am  wrong  in 
my  description.  This  was  also  called  a  Pony  Rose. 
This  Fairy  Rose  was  not  the  Polyantha  which  also 
has  forty  or  fifty  little  roses  in  a  cluster.  The  single 
Polyantha  Rose  looks  much  like  its  cousin,  the 
Blackberry  blossom. 

Another  small  Rose  was  the  Garland  Rose.  This 
was  deemed  extremely  elegant,  and  rightfully  so. 
It  has  great  corymbs  of  tiny  white  blossoms  with 
tight  little  buff  buds  squeezing  out  among  the  open 
Roses. 

Another  old  favorite  was  the  Rose  of  Four  Sea- 
sons —  known  also  by  its  French  name,  Rose  de 
Quatre  Saisons  —  which  had  occasional  blooms 
throughout  the  summer.  It  may  hav°  been  the 
foundation  of  our  Hybrid  Perpetual  Roses.  The 
Bourbon  Roses  were  vastly  modish ;  their  round 
smooth  petals  and  oval  leaves  easily  distinguish  them 
from  other  varieties. 


468  Old  Time  Gardens 

Among  the  several  hundred  things  I  have  fully 
planned  out  to  do,  to  solace  my  old  age  after  I  have 
become  a  "  centurion,"  is  a  series  of  water-color 
drawings  of  all  these  old-time  Roses,  for  so  many  of 
them  are  already  scarce. 

The  Michigan  Rose  which  covered  the  arches  in 
Mr.  Seward's  garden,  has  clusters  of  deep  pink, 
single,  odorless  flowers,  that  fade  out  nearly  white 
after  they  open.  It  is  our  only  native  Rose  that  has 
passed  into  cultivation.  From  it  come  many  fine 
double-flowered  Roses,  among  them  the  beautiful 
Baltimore  Belle  and  Queen  of  the  Prairies,  which 
were  named  about'  1836  by  a  Baltimore  florist  called 
Feast.  All  its  vigorous  and  hardy  descendants  are 
scentless  save  the  Gem  of  the  Prairies.  It  is  one  of 
the  ironies  of  plant-nomenclature  when  we  have  so 
few  plant  names  saved  to  us  from  the  picturesque 
and  often  musical  speech  of  the  American  Indians, 
that  the  lovely  Cherokee  Rose,  Indian  of  name,  is  a 
Chinese  Rose.  It  ought  to  be  a  native,  for  every- 
where throughout  our  Southern  states  its  pure  white 
flowers  and  glossy  evergreen  leaves  love  to  grow 
till  they  form  dense  thickets. 

People  who  own  fine  gardens  are  nowadays  un- 
willing to  plant  the  old  "  Summer  Roses  "  which 
bloom  cheerfully  in  their  own  Rose-month  and  then 
have  no  more  blossoming  till  the  next  year ;  they 
want  a  Remontant  Rose,  which  will  bloom  a  second 
time  in  the  autumn,  or  a  Perpetual  Rose,  which  will 
give  flowers  from  June  till  cut  oflf  by  the  frost.  But 
these  latter-named  Roses  are  not  only  of  fine  gardens 
but  of  fine  gardeners ;  and  folk  who  wish  the  old 


Roses  of  Yesterday  469 

simple  flower  garden  which  needs  no  highly-skilled 
care,  still  are  happy  in  the  old  Summer  Roses  I  have 
named. 

A  Rose  hedge  is  the  most  beautiful  of  all  garden 
walls  and  the  most  ancient.  Professor  Koch  says 
that  long  before  men  customarily  surrounded  their 
gardens  with  walls,  that  they  had  Rose  hedges.  He 
tells  us  that  each  of  the  four  great  peoples  of  Asia 
owned  its  own  beloved  Rose,  carried  in  all  wander- 
ings, until  at  last  the  four  became  common  to  all 
races  of  men.  Indo-Germanic  stock  chose  the  hun- 
dred-leaved red  Rose,  Rosa  gallica  (the  best  Rose 
for  conserves).  Rosa  damascena,  which  blooms 
twice  a  year,  and  the  Musk  Rose  were  cherished 
by  the  Semitic  people ;  these  were  preferred  for 
attar  of  Roses  and  Rose  water.  The  yellow  Rose, 
Rosa  lutea,  or  Persian  Rose,  was  the  flower  of 
the  Turkish  Mongolian  people.  Eastern  Asia 
is  the  fatherland  of  the  Indian  and  Tea  Roses. 
The  Rose  has  now  become  as  universal  as  sunlight. 
Even  in  Iceland  and  Lapland  grows  the  lovely  Rosa 
nitida. 

We  say  these  Roses  are  common  to  all  peoples, 
but  we  have  never  in  America  been  able  to  grow 
yellow  Roses  in  ample  bloom  in  our  gardens. 
Many  that  thrive  in  English  gardens  are  unknown 
here.  The  only  yellow  garden  Rose  common  in 
old  gardens  was  known  simply  as  the  "  old  yellow 
Rose,"  or  Scotch  Rose,  but  it  came  from  the  far 
East.  In  a  few  localities  the  yellow  Eglantine  was 
seen.  ...yi  \ 

The  picturesque  old  custom  of  paying  a  Rose  for 


470  Old  Time  Gardens 

rent  was  known  here.  In  Manheim,  Pennsylvania, 
stands  the  Zion  Lutheran  Church,  which  was  gath- 
ered together  by  Baron  William  Stiegel,  who  was 
the  first  glass  and  iron  manufacturer  of  note  in  this 
country.  He  came  to  America  in  1750,  with  a 
fortune  which  would  be  equal  to-day  to  a  million 
dollars,  and  founded  and  built  and  named  Man- 
heim. He  was  a  man  of  deep  spiritual  and  reli- 
gious belief,  and  of  profound  sentiment,  and  when  in 
1771  he  gave  the  land  to  the  church,  this  clause  was 
in  the  indenture  :  — 

"Yielding  and  paying  therefor  unto  the  said  Henry 
William  Stiegel,  his  heirs  or  assigns,  at  the  said  town  of 
Manheim,  in  the  Month  of  June  Yearly,  forever  hereafter, 
the  rent  of  One  Red  Rose,  if  the  same  shall  be  lawfully 
demanded." 

Nothing  more  touching  can  be  imagined  than  the 
fulfilment  each  year  of  this  beautiful  and  symbolic 
ceremony  of  payment.  The  little  town  is  rich  in 
Roses,  and  these  are  gathered  freely  for  the  church 
service,  when  One  Red  Rose  is  still  paid  to  the  heirs 
of  the  sainted  old  baron,  who  died  in  1778,  broken 
in  health  and  fortunes,  even  having  languished  in 
jail  some  time  for  debt.  A  new  church  was  erected 
on  the  site  of  the  old  one  in  1892,  and  in  a  beauti- 
ful memorial  window  the  decoration  of  the  Red 
Rose  commemorates  the  sentiment  of  its  benefactor. 

The  Rose  Tavern,  in  the  neighboring  town  of 
Bethlehem,  stands  on  land  granted  for  the  site  of  a 
tavern  by  William  Penn,  for  the  yearly  rental  of 
One  Red  Rose. 


Roses  of  Yesterday  471 

In  England  the  payment  of  a  Rose  as  rent  was 
often  known.  The  Bishop  of  Ely  leased  Ely  house 
in  1576  to  Sir  Christopher  Hatton,  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's handsome  Lord  Chancellor,  for  a  Red  Rose 
to  be  paid  on  Midsummer  Day,  ten  loads  of  hay 
and  ten  pounds  per  annum,  and  he  and  his  Episco- 
pal successors  reserved  the  right  of  walking  in  the 
gardens  and  gathering  twenty  bushels  of  Roses  yearly. 
In  France  there  was  a  feudal  right  to  demand  a 
payment  of  Roses  for  the  making  of  Rose  water. 

Two  of  our  great  historians,  George  Bancroft 
and  Francis  Parkman,  were  great  rose-growers  and 
rose-lovers.  I  never  saw  Mr.  Parkman's  Rose 
Garden,  but  I  remember  Mr.  Bancroft's  well;  the 
Tea  Roses  were  especially  beautiful.  Mr.  Bancroft's 
Rose  Garden  in  its  earliest  days  had  no  rivals  in 
America. 

The  making  of  potpourri  was  common  in  my 
childhood.  While  the  petals  of  the  Cabbage  Rose 
were  preferred,  all  were  used.  Recipes  for  making 
potpourri  exist  in  great  number  ;  I  have  seen  several 
in  manuscript  in  old  recipe  books,  one  dated  1690. 
The  old  ones  are  much  simpler  than  the  modern 
ones,  and  have  no  strong  spices  such  as  cinnamon 
and  clove,  and  no  bergamot  or  mints  or  strongly 
scented  essences  or  leaves.  The  best  rules  gave 
ambergris  as  one  of  the  ingredients ;  this  is  not 
really  a  perfume,  but  gives  the  potpourri  its  staying 
power.  There  is  something  very  pleasant  in  open- 
ing an  old  China  jar  to  find  it  filled  with  potpourri, 
even  if  the  scent  has  wholly  faded.  It  tells  a  story 
of  a  day  when  people  had  time  for  such  things.  I 


472  Old  Time  Gardens 

read  in  a  letter  a  century  and  a  half  old  of  a  happy 
group  of  people  riding  out  to  the  house  of  the 
provincial  .governor  of  New  York;  all  gathered 
Rose  leaves  in  the  governor's  garden,  and  the  gov- 
ernor's wife  started  the  distilling  of  these  Rose 
leaves,  in  her  new  still,  into  Rose  water,  while  all 
drank  syllabubs  and  junkets  —  a  pretty  Watteau-ish 
scene. 

The  hips  of  wild  Roses  are  a  harvest — one 
unused  in  America  in  modern  days,  but  in  olden 
times  they  were  stewed  with  sugar  and  spices,  as 
were  other  fruits.  Sauce  Saracen,  or  Sarzyn,  was 
made  of  Rose  hips  and  Almonds  pounded  together, 
cooked  in  wine  and  sweetened.  I  believe  they  are 
still  cooked  by  some  folks  in  England,  but  I  never 
heard  of  their  use  in  America  save  by  one  person, 
an  elderly  Irish  woman  on  a  farm  in  Narragansett. 
Plentiful  are  the  references  and  rules  in  old  cook- 
books for  cooking  Rose  hips.  Parkinson  says : 
"  Hippes  are  made  into  a  conserve,  also  a  paste  like 
licoris.  Cooks  and  their  Mistresses  know  how  to 
prepare  from  them  many  fine  dishes  for  the  Table." 
Gerarde  writes  characteristically  of  the  Sweet- 
brier,  "  The  fruit  when  it  is  ripe  maketh  most 
pleasant  meats  and  banqueting  dishes,  as  tarts  and 
such-like ;  the  making  whereof  I  commit  to  the 
cunning  cooke,  and  teeth  to  eat  them  in  the  rich 
man's  mouth." 

Children  have  ever  nibbled  Rose  hips :  — 

"I  fed  on  scarlet  hips  and  stony  haws  — 
Hard  fare,  but  such  as  boyish  appetite 
Disdains  not." 


Roses  of  Yesterday  473 

The  Rose  bush  furnished  another  comestible  for 
the  children's  larder,  the  red  succulent  shoots  of 
common  garden  and  wild  Roses.  These  were  known 
by  the  dainty  name  of"  brier  candy,"  a  name  appro- 
priate and  characteristic,  as  the  folk-names  devised 
by  children  frequently  are. 

On  the  post-road  in  southern  New  Hampshire 
stands  an  old  house,  which  according  to  its  license 
was  once  "  improved  "  as  a  tavern,  and  was  famous 
for  its  ghost  and  its  Roses.  The  tavern  was  owned 
by  a  family  of  two  brothers  and  two  sisters,  all  un- 
married, as  was  rather  a  habit  in  the  Mason  family ; 
though  when  any  of  the  tribe  did  marry,  a  vast 
throng  of  children  quickly  sprung  up  to  propagate 
the  name  and  sturdy  qualities  of  the  race.  The 
men  were  giants,  and  both  men  and  women  were 
hard-working  folk  of  vast  endurance  and  great  thrift, 
and,  like  all  of  that  ilk  in  New  England,  they  pros- 
pered and  grew  well-to-do ;  great  barns  and  out- 
buildings, all  well  filled,  stretched  down  along  the 
roadside  below  the  house.  Joseph  Mason  could  lay 
more  feet  of  stone  wall  in  a  day,  could  plough  more 
land,  chop  down  more  trees,  pull  more  stumps,  than 
any  other  man  in  New  Hampshire.  His  sisters 
could  bake  and  brew,  make  soap,  weed  the  garden, 
spin  and  weave,  unceasingly  and  untiringly.  Their 
garden  was  a  source  of  purest  pleasure  to  them,  as 
well  as  of  hard  work ;  its  borders  were  so  stocked 
with  medicinal  herbs  that  it  could  supply  a  town- 
ship ;  and  its  old-time  flowers  furnished  seeds  and 
slips  and  bulbs  to  every  other  garden  within  a  day's 
driving  distance ;  but  its  glory  was  a  garden  side  to 


474 


Old  Time  Gardens 


gladden  the  heart  of  Omar  Khayyam,  where  two  or 
three  acres  of  ground  were  grown  over  heavily  with 
old-fashioned  Roses.  These  were  only  the  common 
Cinnamon  Rose,  the  beloved  Cabbage  Rose,  and  a 
pale  pink,  spicily  scented,  large-petalled,  scarcely 
double  Rose,  known  to  them  as  the  Apothecaries' 


Madame  Plantier  Rose. 

Rose.  Farmer-neighbors  wondered  at  this  waste  of 
the  Masons'  good  land  in  this  unprofitable  Rose 
crop,  but  it  had  a  certain  use.  There  came  every 
June  to  this  Rose  garden  all  the  children  of  the 
vicinity,  bearing  milk-pails,  homespun  bags,  birch 
baskets,  to  gather  Rose  petals.  They  nearly  all 
had  Roses  at  their  homes,  but  not  the  Mason 


Roses  of  Yesterday  475 

Roses.  These  Rose  leaves  were  carried  carefully  to 
each  home,  and  were  packed  in  stone  jars  with  alter- 
nate layers  of  brown  or  scant  maple  sugar.  Soon  all 
conglomerated  into  a  gummy,  brown,  close-grained, 
not  over  alluring  substance  to  the  vision,  which  was 
known  among  the  children  by  the  unromantic  name 
of  "  Rose  tobacco."  This  cloying  confection  was 
in  high  repute.  It  was  chipped  off  and  eaten  in 
tiny  bits,  and  much  treasured  —  as  a  love  token,  or 
reward  of  good  behavior. 

The  Mason  house  was  a  tavern.  It  was  not  one 
of  the  regular  stopping-places  on  the  turnpike  road, 
being  rather  too  near  the  town  to  gather  any  travel 
of  teamsters  or  coaches;  but  passers-by  who  knew 
the  house  and  the  Masons  loved  to  stop  there. 
Everything  in  the  well-kept,  well-filled  house  and 
barns  contributed  to  the  comfort  of  guests,  and  it  was 
known  that  the  Masons  cared  more  for  the  company 
of  the  traveller  than  for  his  pay. 

There  was  a  shadow  on  this  house.  The  young- 
est of  the  family,  Hannah,  had  been  jilted  in  her 
youth,  "  shabbed "  as  said  the  country  folks. 
After  several  years  of  "  constant  company-keeping" 
with  the  son  of  a  neighbor,  during  which  time  many  a 
linen  sheet  and  tablecloth,  many  a  fine  blanket,  had 
been  spun  and  woven,  and  laid  aside  with  the  tacit 
understanding  that  it  was  part  of  her  wedding  outfit, 
the  man  had  fallen  suddenly  and  violently  in  love 
with  a  girl  who  came  from  a  neighboring  town  to 
sing  a  single  Sunday  in  the  church  choir.  He  had 
driven  to  her  home  the  following  week,  carried  her 
off  to  a  parson  in  a  third  town,  married  her,  and 


476  Old  Time  Gardens 

brought  her  to  his  home  in  a  triumph  of  enthusiasm 
and  romance,  which  quickly  fled  before  the  open  dis- 
like and  reprehension  of  his  upright  neighbors,  who 
abhorred  his  fickleness,  and  before  the  years  of  ill 
health  and  ill  temper  of  the  hard-worked,  faded  wife. 
Many  children  were  born  to  them  ;  two  lived,  sickly 
little  souls,  who,  unconscious  of  the  blemish  on  their 
parents'  past,  came  with  the  other  children  every 
June,  and  gathered  Rose  leaves  under  Hannah 
Mason's  window. 

Hannah  Mason  was  called  crazy.  After  her 
desertion  she  never  entered  any  door  save  that  of  her 
own  home,  never  went  to  a  neighbor's  house  either 
in  time  of  joy  or  sorrow;  queerer  still,  never  went  to 
church.  All  her  life,  her  thoughts,  her  vast  strength, 
went  into  hard  work.  No  labor  was  too  heavy  or 
too  formidable  for  her.  She  would  hetchel  flax  for 
weeks,  spin  unceasingly,  and  weave  on  a  hand  loom, 
most  wearing  of  women's  work,  without  thought  of 
rest.  No  single  household  could  supply  work  for 
such  an  untiring  machine,  especially  when  all  labored 
industriously  —  so  work  was  brought  to  her  from 
the  neighbors.  Not  a  wedding  outfit  for  miles 
around  was  complete  without  one  of  Hannah  Ma- 
son's fine  tablecloths.  Every  corpse  was  buried  in 
one  of  her  linen  shrouds.  Sailmakers  and  boat- 
owners  in  Portsmouth  sent  up  to  her  for  strong 
duck  for  their  sails.  Lads  went  up  to  Dartmouth 
College  in  suits  of  her  homespun.  Many  a  teamster 
on  the  road  slept  under  Hannah  Mason's  heavy  gray 
woollen  blankets,  and  his  wagon  tilts  were  covered 
with  her  canvas.  Her  bank  account  grew  rapidly 


Sun-dial  and  Roses  at  Van  Cortlandt  Manor. 


Roses  of  Yesterday  477 

—  she  became  rich  as  fast  as  her  old  lover  became 
poor.  But  all  this  cast  a  shadow  .on  the  house. 
Sojourners  would  waken  and  hear  throughout  the 
night  some  steady  sound,  a  scratching  of  the  cards, 
a  whirring  of  the  spinning-wheel,  the  thump-thump 
of  the  loom.  Some  said  she  never  slept,  and  could 
well  grow  rich  when  she  worked  all  night. 

At  last  the  woman  who  had  stolen  her  lover  —  the 
poor,  sickly  wife  —  died.  The  widower,  burdened 
hopelessly  with  debts,  of  course  put  up  in  her  mem- 
ory a  fine  headstone  extolling  her  virtues.  One 
wakeful  night,  with  a  sentiment  often  found  in  such 
natures,  he  went  to  the  graveyard  to  view  his  proud 
but  unpaid-for  possession.  The  grass  deadened  his 
footsteps,  and  not  till  he  reached  the  grave  did  there 
rise  up  from  the  ground  a  tall,  ghostly  figure  dressed 
all  in  undyed  gray  wool  of  her  own  weaving.  It  was 
Hannah  Mason.  "  Hannah,"  whimpered  the  wid- 
ower, trying  to  take  her  hand,  —  with  equal  thought 
of  her  long  bank  account  and  his  unpaid-for  head- 
stone,—  "I  never  really  loved  any  one  but  you." 
She  broke  away  from  him  with  an  indescribable  ges- 
ture of  contempt  and  dignity,  and  went  home.  She 
died  suddenly  four  days  later  of  pneumonia,  either 
from  the  shock  or  the  damp  midnight  chill  of  the 
graveyard. 

As  months  passed  on  travellers  still  came  to  the 
tavern,  and  the  story  began  to  be  whispered  from 
one  to  another  that  the  house  was  haunted  by  the 
ghost  of  Hannah  Mason.  Strange  sounds  were 
heard  at  night  from  the  garret  where  she  had  always 
worked ;  most  plainly  of  all  could  be  heard  the 


478  Old  Time  Gardens 

whirring  of  her  great  wool  wheel.  When  this 
rumor  reached  the  brothers'  ears,  they  determined 
to  investigate  the  story  and  end  it  forever.  That 
night  their  vigil  began,  and  soon  the  sound  of  the 
wheel  was  heard.  They  entered  the  garret,  and  to 
their  surprise  found  the  wheel  spinning  round. 
Then  Joseph  Mason  went  to  the  garret  and  seated 
himself  for  closer  and  more  determined  watch.  He 
sat  in  the  dark  till  the  wheel  began  to  revolve,  then 
struck  a  sudden  light  and  found  the  ghost.  A  great 
rat  had  run  out  on  the  spoke  of  the  wheel  and  when 
he  reached  the  broad  rim  had  started  a  treadmill  of 
his  own  —  which  made  the  ghostly  sound  as  it  whirred 
around.  Soon  this  rat  grew  so  tame  that  he  would 
come  out  on  the  spinning-wheel  in  the  daytime,  and 
several  others  were  seen  to  run  around  in  the  wheel 
as  if  it  were  a  pleasant  recreation. 

The  old  brick  house  still  stands  with  its  great 
grove  of  Sugar  Maples,  but  it  is  silent,  for  the 
Masons  all  sleep  in  the  graveyard  behind  the  church 
high  up  on  the  hillside;  no  travellers  stop  within 
the  doors,  the  ghost  rats  are  dead,  the  spinning- 
wheel  is  gone,  but  the  garden  still  blossoms  with 
eternal  youth.  Though  children  no  longer  gather 
rose  leaves  for  Rose  tobacco,  the  "  Roses  of  Yester- 
day "  bloom  every  year;  and  each  June  morn,  "a 
thousand  blossoms  with  the  day  awake,"  and  fling 
their  spicy  fragrance  on  the  air. 


Index 


Abbotsford,   Ivy  from,   62  ;     sun-dial 

from,  219,  377. 
Achillaea,  238. 
Aconite,  266. 

Acrelius,  Dr.,  quoted,  208. 
Adam's  Needle.     See  Yucca. 
Adlumia,  183. 
Agapanthus,  52. 
Ageratum,  as  edging,  60,  264. 
Ague-weed,  146. 
Akeis,  Elizabeth,  quoted,  152. 
Alcott,  A.  B.,  cited,  120. 
Alka,  359. 

Alleghany  Vine.    See  Adlumia. 
Allen,  James  Lane,  quoted,  195. 
Almond,  flowering,  39,  41, 159. 
Aloe,  429. 

Alpine  Strawberries,  62. 
Alstroemeria,  438. 

Alyssum,  sweet,  59-60, 179 ;  yellow,  137. 
Ambrosia,  48,  235  et  seg. 
Anemone  japonica,  67,  187. 
Annunzio,  G.  d',  quoted,  94. 
Apple  betty,  211. 
Apple  butter,  212-213. 
Apple  frolic,  211  et  seg. 
Apple  hoglin,  211. 
Apple-luns,  209. 
Apple  mose,  209. 
Apple  moy,  209.    . 
Apple  paring,  207. 
Apple  pie,  208. 
Apple  sauce,  213. 
Apple  slump,  211. 
Apple  stucklin,  211. 
Apple  tansy,  209. 


Aquilegia,  260. 

Arabis,  47. 

Arbors,  384. 

Arbutus,  trailing,  166,  291,  299. 

Arches,  384,  387,  418. 

Arch-herbs,  384. 

Arelhusa,  247  et  seq.,  295,  299  et  seq. 

Arlington,  pergola  at,  385. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  quoted,  225,  226. 

Ascott,  sun-dial  at,  98. 

Asters,  179,  180. 

Athol  porridge,  393. 

Azalea,  16. 

Baby's  Breath,  257. 

Bachelor's  Buttons,  52,  176,  265,  291. 

Back-yard,  flowers  in,  154. 

Bacon-and-eggs,  138. 

Bacon,  Lord,  cited,  44-45,  55,  56,  144. 

Balloon      Flower.        See     Platycodon 

grandiflorum . 
Balloon  Vine,  183-184. 
Balsams,  257. 
Baltimore  Belle  Rose,  468. 
Bancroft,  George,  Rose  Garden  of,  471. 
Banksia  Rose,  463. 
Bare-dames,  17. 

Barney,  Major,  landscape  art  of,  101. 
Bartram,  John,  12. 
Basil,  sweet,  121  et  seq. 
Battle  of  Princeton,  78. 
Batty  Langley,  cited,  383. 
Bayberry,  302. 
Beata  Beatrix,  380. 
Beaver-tongue,  347-348. 
Beech,  weeping,  231. 


479 


480 


Index 


Bee-hives,  354,  391  et  seq. 

Beekman,  James,  greenhouse  of,  19." 

Bee  Larkspur,  265,  268. 

Bell-bind,  181,  182. 

Bell  Flower,  Chinese  or  Japanese.    See 

Platycodon  grandiflorum. 
Belvoir  Castle,  Lunaria  at,  171-172. 
Bergnmot,  166. 

Bergen  Homestead,  garden  of,  23. 
Berkeley,  Bishop,  Apple  trees  of,  194- 

195- 

Bitter  Buttons.     See  Tansy. 
Bitter-sweet,  25,  238. 
Black  Cohosh,  423-424. 
Black  Roses,  466. 
Bleeding-heart.     See  Dielytra. 
Blind,  herb-garden  for,  131. 
Bloodroot,  154,  457. 
Bluebottles,  265. 
Blue-eyed  Grass,  278-279. 
Blue-pipe  tree,  144. 
Blue  Roses,  253. 
Blue  Sage,  264. 
Blue  Spider-flower,  435. 
Bluetops,  265. 
Bluets,  260. 

Blue-weed.     See  Viper's  Bugloss. 
Blush  Roses,  466. 
Bocconia.     See  Plume  Poppy. 
Boneset,  145  et  seq. 
Bosquets,  387. 
Botrys.     See  Ambrosia. 
Boulder,  sun-dial  mounted  on,  377. 
Bouncing  Bet,  52,  450. 
Bourbon  Roses,  467. 
Boursault  Roses,  48,  463. 
Bowers,  385. 
Bowling  greens,  240. 
Bowne,  Eliza  Southgate,  diary  of,  31. 
Box.     See  Chapter  IV.;    also  29,  47, 

48-  54.  59.  71-  8°.  "2-  338- 
Break-your-spectacles,  265. 
Brecknock  Hall,  Box  at,  103-104. 
Bricks  for  edging,  59, 71 ;  for  walls,  71- 

72,  412  et  seq. 
Brier  candy,  473. 
British  soldiers,  graves  of,  77  et  seq. 


Broom.     See  Woad-waxen. 

Broughton  Castle,  Box  sun-dial  at,  97. 
98. 

Brown,  Dr.  John,  cited,  103. 

Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  quoted,  306. 

Brunelle.     See  Prunella. 

Buck-thorn,  387,  407. 

Bulbs,  157. 

Burgundy  Roses,  465,  466,  467. 

Burnet,  305. 

Burnet-leaved  Rose,  466. 

Burroughs,  J.,  quoted,  195,  451-452. 

Burying-grounds,  Box  in,  94;  Dog- 
wood in,  155;  Thyme  in,  303; 
Spurge  in,  434. 

Butter-and-eggs.     See  Toad-flax. 

Buttercups,  166,  291,  294. 

Cabbage  Rose,  297,  320,  459,  460,  471. 

Calceolarias,  179. 

Calopogon,  247. 

Calycanthus,  297. 

Cambridge  University,  sun-dial  at,  97. 

Camden,  South  Carolina,  gardens  at, 

15- 

Camellia  Japonica,  16. 
Camomile,  192. 
Campanula,  52,  262. 
Candy-tuft,  as  edging,  59. 
Canker-bloom,  465. 
Canterbury  Bells,  34, 162,  262, 333  et  seq. 
Caraway,  341,  342. 
Carnation,  green,  239. 
Catalpas,  26,  31,  293. 
Cat-ice,  453. 
Catnip,  315. 
Cat  road,  452. 
Cat's-fancy,  315. 
Cat-slides,  453. 
Cat-sticks,  453. 
Cedar  hedges,  387.    • 
Cedar  of  Lebanon,  29. 
Centaurea    Cyanus.      See    Bachelor's 

Buttons. 

Cerinthe.  See  Moneywort. 
Charles  I.  sun-dials  of,  357. 
Charles  II.  sun-dials  of,  357. 


Index 


481 


Charlottesville,  Virginia,  wall  at,  414. 

Charmilles,  387. 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  quoted,  flowers  of, 

215- 

Checkerberry,  345. 
Checker  lily.     See  Fritillaria. 
Chenopodium  Botrys.     See  Ambrosia. 
Cherokee  Rose,  468. 
Cherry  blossoms,  158,  193,  197. 
Cheshire,  Connecticut,  Apple  tree  in, 

194. 

Chicory,  266  et  seq. 
Chinese  Bell  Flower.    See  Platycodon 

grandiflorum. 
Chionodoxa,  137. 
Chore-girl,  393. 
Christalan,  statue  of,  84,  85. 
Chrysanthemums,  179. 
Cider,  manufacture  of,  202  et  seq. 
Cider  soup,  212. 
Cinnamon  Fern,  332. 
Cinnamon  Roses,  463,  465. 
Civet,  317. 
Clair-voyees,  389. 
Clare,  John,  quoted,  227,  309. 
Claymont,  Virginia,  garden.at,  181, 182. 
Claytonia,  294. 
Clematis,  Jackmanni,  182. 
Clove  apple,  210. 
Clover,  165. 
Clover,  Italian,  241. 
Codlins  and  Cream,  138. 
Cohosh.    See  Snakeroot. 
Colchicum,  455. 
Columbia,  South  Carolina,  gardens  at, 

15- 

Columbine,  260,  424-425. 
Comfort  Apple,  210. 
Concord,  Massachusetts,  British  dead 

at,  78 ;    Sunday   observance   in,  345 

et  seq. 

Cooper,  Susan,  quoted,  289. 
Corchorus,  190. 
Cornel,  332. 
Cornelian  Rose,  17. 
Cornuti,  Dr.,  list  of  plants,  10. 
Corydalis,  154. 
21 


Costmary,  347-348. 

Covert  walks,  59. 

Cowslips,  294. 

Cowslip  mead,  393. 

Crab  Apple  trees,  192, 

Craigie  House,  141. 

Crape  Myrtle,  16,  71. 

Creeping  Jenny,  60. 

Crocus,  136. 

Crown   Imperial,  40;   loquitur,  322  et 

seq. 

Culpepper,  N.,  cited,  349. 
Cupid's  Car,  266. 
Currant,  flowering,  298. 
Cyanus,  33. 
Cyclamens,  448. 
Cylindres,  355. 
Cypress,  406. 

Daffodil  Dell,  84. 

Daffodils,  137  et  seq. ;  318. 

Dahlias,  176  et  seq. 

Daisies,  165. 

Damask  Roses,  462,  465,  466. 

Dames'  Rocket,  422. 

Dandelion,  117,  135,  154-155,  330. 

Dante's  Garden,  228. 

Deland,  Margaret,  quoted,  64,  229,  267, 

429. 

Delphinum.     See  Larkspur. 
Derby  family,  gardens  of,  30-31. 
Deutzias,  189. 
Devil-in-a-bush,  435. 
Devil's-bit,  289. 
Dialling,  taught,  372. 
Dicentra.     See  Dielytra. 
Dickens,  Charles,  sun-dial  of,  376. 
Dickinson,  Emily,  quoted,  341,  417. 
Dielytra,  185  et  seq. 
Dill,  5,  341-343. 
Dodocatheon,  448. 
Dog  Roses,  465. 
Dogtooth  Violet,  434,  437. 
Dogwood,  155. 
Double  Buttercups,  176. 
Double  flowers,  425. 
Douglas,  Gavin,  quoted,  257. 


Index 


Dovecotes  in  England,  394;  at  Shirley- 

on-James,  394^/j^. 
Draytons,  garden  of,  16. 
Drumthwacket,  garden  at,  76  et  seq. 
Drying  Apples,  207. 
Dudgeon,  99-100. 

Dutch  gardens,  19,  20  et  seq.,  71  et  seq. 
Dutchman's  Pipe,  184. 
Dumbledore's  Delight,  266. 
Dyer's  Weed.    See  Woad-waxen. 

Egyptians,  sun-dials  of,  359. 

Elder.  304. 

Election  Day,  lilacs  bloom  on,  148. 

Elijah's  Chariot,  271. 

Ely  Place,  rental  of,  471. 

Emerson,  R.  W.,  quoted,  138,  376. 

Endicort.  Governor,  garden  of,  3 ;  nur- 
sery of,  24 ;  bequest  of  Woad-waxen, 
24,  25  ;  sun-dial  of,  358. 

Erasmus  quoted,  109. 

Evening  Primrose,  10,  428,  429. 

Everlasting  Pea,  427. 

Fairbanks,  Jonathan,  sun-dial  of,  344, 

358. 

Fairies,  charm  to  see,  304. 
Fair-in-sight,  334. 
Fairy  Roses,  467. 
Fairy  Thimbles,  337. 
Faneuil,  Andrew,  glass  house  of,  19. 
Fennel,  5,  341  et  seq. 
Fitchburg,   Massachusetts,   garden   at 

jail,  101,  102. 

Fitzgerald,  Edward,  quoted,  316,  330. 
Flag,  sweet,  striped,  438 ;  blue,  278. 
Flagroot,  343  et  seq. 
Flax,  262. 
Flower  closes,  240. 
Flower  de  Luce,  257  et  seq. 
Flowering  Currant,  64. 
Flower-of-death,  441. 
Flower-of-prosperity,  42. 
Flower  toys,  156. 
Flushing,  Long  Island,  nurseries  at,  26 

et  seq,  156,  230  et  seq. 
Fore  court,  40. 


Forget-me-not,  265. 

Formal  garden,  78  et  seq. 

Forsythia,  133,  189,  190. 

Forth  rights,  58. 

Fortune,  Robert,  187  et  seq. 

Fountains,  69,  85-86,  380,  389. 

Fox,  George,  bequest  of,  n  ;  at  Sylves- 
ter Manor,  105. 

Foxgloves,  162,  427. 

Frankland,  Sir  Henry,  29. 

Franklin  cent,  365. 

Fraxinella,  432. 

Fringed  Gentian,  265,  273,  294. 

Fritillaria,  81,  165,  446  et  seq. 

Fuchsias,  52,  331. 

Fugio  bank  note,  364,  365. 

Fumitory,  Climbing,  183. 

Funerals,  in  front  yard,  51 ;  Tansy  at, 
128  et  seq. 

Funkias,  70. 

Gardener's  Garters,  438. 

Garden  Heliotrope,  313. 

Garden  of  Sentiment,  no. 

Garden  Pink.     See  Pinks. 

Garden,  Significance  of  name,  280. 

Garden-viewing,  338. 

Gardiner,  Grissel,  104. 

Garland  of  Julia,  323. 

Garland  Roses,  467. 

Garrets  with  herbs,  115. 

Garth,  39. 

Gas-plant.     See  Fraxinella. 

Gate  of  Yaddo,  81,  82;   at  Westover- 

on-James,  388, 389 ;  at  Bristol,  Rhode 

Island,  389. 

Gatherer  of  simples,  118. 
Gaultheria,  118. 
Gem  of  the  Prairies  Rose,  468. 
Genista  tinctoria.     See  Woad-waxen. 
Geraniums,  244. 
Germander,  59. 
Germantown,    Pennsylvania,    gardens 

at,  n,  12;  sun-dial  at,  371  et  seq. 
Ghosts  in  gardens,  431. 
Gilly  flowers,  5. 
Ginger,  Wild,  343. 


Index 


483 


Girls'  Life  Eighty  Years  Ago,  31. 

Glory-of-the-snow,  137. 

Gnomon  of  sun-dial,  379  et  seq. 

Goethe,  cited,  431. 

Goncourt,    Edmond   de,   quoted,   248, 

249. 

Gooseberries,  338,  339  et  seq. 
Goosefoot,  59. 
Gorse,  221,  222. 
Grace    Church    Rectory,   sun-dial   of, 

364.  374- 
Grafting,  391. 

Grape  Hyacinth,  255  et  seq. 
Graveyard  Ground-pine,  434. 
Green  apples,  200  et  seq. 
Green,  color,  138,  233  et  seq. 
Green  galleries,  385. 
Greenhouse,  of  James   Beekman,  19; 

of  T.  Hardenbrook,  19. 
Ground  Myrtle,  439. 
Groundsel,  292. 
Guinea-hen  flower,  447. 
Gypsophila,  175. 

Hair-dye,  of  Box,  99. 

Hampton  Court,  Box  at,  94. 

Hampton,  garden  at,  14,  58,  60, 95, 101. 

Hancock  garden,  30. 

Hawdods,  265. 

Hawthorn,  292,  300. 

Hawthorne,    Nathaniel,    quoted,    153, 

299. 

Headaches,  309. 
Heart  pea,  184. 
Heather,  221,  222. 
Hedgehog  Roses,  464. 
Hedgerows,  399  et  seq.,  403  etseq. 
Hedges,  of  Box,  99 ;  of  Lilac,  143-144, 

406 ;  of  Privet,  406,  408 ;  of  Locust, 

406. 

Heliotrope,  scent  of,  319. 
Hermerocallis.     See  Lemon  Lily. 
Hemlock  hedges,  406. 
Henbane,  434. 
Hepatica,  259. 

Herbaceous  border,  113  et  seq. 
Herber,  113,  384. 


Herbert,  George,  quoted,  114. 

Herb  twopence,  61. 

Hermits,  245. 

Herrick,  flowers  of,  216. 

Hesperis,  421-422. 

Hiccough,  342. 

Higginson,  T.  W.,  quoted,  74. 

Hips  of  Roses,  472. 

Holly,  406. 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  quoted,  91, 
139-140,  226,  268,  301,  313. 

Hollyhocks,  5,  6,  33,  52,  332  et  seq., 
336. 

Honesty.     See  Lunaria. 

Honeyblob  gooseberries,  338. 

Honey,  from  Thyme,  303 ;  in  drinks, 
393- 

Honeysuckle,  182,  332,  450. 

Honeywort,  33,  442. 

Hood,  quoted,  228-229. 

Hopewell,  Lilacs  at,  148. 

Houstonia,  260. 

Howitt  Garden,  223. 

Howitt,  Mary,  quoted,  326,  330,  345. 

Humming-birds,  243. 

Hundred-leaved  Rose,  460,  469. 

Hutchinson,  Governor,  garden  of,  54. 

Hyacinths,  257. 

Hydrangea,  182;  blue,  260;  at  Cape- 
town, 261. 

Hyssop,  54. 

Iberis.     See  Candy-tuft. 
Independence  Trees.     See  Catalpa. 
Indian  Hill,  144,  415  et  seq. 
Indian  Pipe,  455. 
Indian  plant  names,  293  et  seq. 
Innocence.     See  Houstonia. 
Iris,  427.     See  also  Flower  du  Luce. 
Italian  gardens,  75  et  seq. 

Jack-in-the-pulpit,  154. 

Jacob's  Ladder,  265. 

James  I.,  quoted,  62. 

Japan,  flowers  from,  40,  67,  157,  158, 

406. 
Jenoffelins,  17. 


484 


Index 


Jewett,  S.  O.,  quoted,  38,  49. 

Joe  pye-weed,  145  et  seq. 

Johnson,  Dr.   Samuel,  dial   motto  of, 

219. 

Jonquils,  318. 

Joseph  and  Mary,  437,  438. 
Josselyn,  John,  quoted,  4  et  seq.,  8. 
Joy-of-the-ground,  441. 
Judas  tree,  158. 
June  Roses,  464. 

Kalendars,  355. 

Kalm,  cited,  128,  203,  408. 

Karr,  Alphonse,  quoted,  272,  302,  453, 

454- 

Katherine  flowers,  435. 
Keats,  cited,  223  et  seq. 
Kiskatomas  nut,  294. 
Kiss-me-at-the-garden-gate,  135. 
Kitchen  door,  69. 
Knots,  described,  54  et  seq. 

Labels,  217. 

Labrador  Indians,  sun-dials  of,  359. 

Laburnum,  168,  169,  231. 

Ladies'  Delights,  48,  133  et  seq. 

Lad's  Love.     See  Southernwood. 

Lady's  Slipper,  293. 

Lafayette,  influence   of,  241;   dial   of, 

357- 

Lamb,  Charles  quoted,  360. 
Landor,  Walter  Savage,  quoted,  140, 

362-363,  415,  420. 
Larch,  300. 

Larkspur,  33,  162,  267  et  seq. 
Latin  names,  291. 
Lavender,  5,  33,  121. 
Lavender  Cotton,  5,  61. 
Lawns,  53,  240. 
Lawson,  William,  quoted,  56. 
Lebanon,  Cedar  of,  29. 
Lemon  Lily,  45,  80. 
Lennox,  Lady,  Box  sun-dial  of,  97-98. 
Leucojum,  234-235. 
Lilacs,  at  Hopkinton,  29,  also  140-153, 

318  et  seq.t  406. 
Lilies,  180. 


Linen,  drying  of,  99;  bleaching  of,  99. 

Linnaeus,  classification  of,  282;  horo- 
loge of,  381-382 ;  discovery  of  daugh- 
ter of,  431  et  seq. 

Liricon-fancy,  45. 

Little  Burgundy  Rose,  467. 

Live-forever.     See  Orpine. 

Live  Oaks,  16. 

Lobelia,  33,  271-272. 

Loch,  259. 

Locust,  as  house  friend,  22-23  '•  Dlos- 
soms  sold,  155 ;  on  Long  Island,  156 ; 
in  Narragansett,  401  et  seq.  ;  in  a 
hedge,  406-407. 

Loggerheads,  265. 

Lombardy  Poplars,  27. 

London  Pride,  45,  443. 

Longfellow,  quoted,  141;  garden  of, 
102,  431. 

Lotus,  74. 

Lovage-root,  343. 

Love  divination,  with  Lilacs,  150;  with 
Apples,  205  et  seq.;  with  Southern- 
wood, 349. 

Love-in-a-huddle,  435. 

Love-in-a  mist,  435. 

Love  lies  bleeding,  287. 

Love  philtres,  118  et  seq. 

Lowell,  J.  R.,  quoted,  48-49,  89,- 227, 
277. 

Luck-lilac,  150. 

Lunaria,  5,  33,  170  et  seq. 

Lungwort,  437-438. 

Lupines,  33,  163,  253,  275  et  seq. 

Lychnis.  See  Mullein  Pink ;  also  Lon- 
don Pride. 

Lyre  flower.    See  Dielytra. 

Lyres,  385,  386. 

Madame  Plantier  Rose,  71,  463,  464. 
Magnolia-on-the-Ashley,    gardens  at, 

16. 

Magnolias,  26,  71,  155-156. 
Maiden's  Blush  Roses,  466. 
Maize,  293-294. 
Maltese  Cross,  443. 
Manheim,  Rose  for  rent  in,  470. 


Index 


485 


Maple,  only  Celtic  plant  name,  292. 

Marigolds,  33,  52,  315  et  seq. 

Maritoffles,  17. 

Markham,  Gervayse,  cited,  40,  54,  115. 

Marsh  Mallow,  434. 

Marsh  Marigold,  294. 

Marvell,  Andrew,  quoted,  231,  239,  381. 

Mather,  Cotton,  quoted,  337,  342. 

Matrimony  Vine,  185,  449-450. 

Mayflower,  166,  291,  299. 

Maze,  described,  54-55;    in  America, 

55 ;  at  Sylvester  Manor,  106. 
Meadow  Rue,  175-176. 
Meet-her-in-the-entry,   Kiss-her-in-the- 

bultery,  135. 
Meeting-plant,  348. 
Meet-me-at-the-garden-gate,  135. 
Meredith,  Owen,  quoted,  166. 
Meresteads,  3. 
Meridian  lines,  355. 
Mertensia,  438. 
Michigan  Roses,  62,  468. 
Mignonette,  scent  of,  319. 
Milkweed  silk,  328,  331. 
Mills,  for  cider-making,  203. 
Minnow-tansy,  127. 
Mint  family,  117-264. 
Miskodeed,  294. 
Missionary  plant,  25. 
Mitchell,  Dr.,  disinterment  of,  129   et 

seq. 

Mithridate,  123. 
Moccasin  flower,  293. 
Mole  cider,  212. 
Molucca  Balm,  436-437. 
Money-in-both-pockets,  170  et  seq. 
Moneywort,  60-61. 
Monkshood,  266,  329,  433. 
Moon  vine,  430-431. 
Moosewood,  452  et  seq. 
Morning-glory,  181-182. 
Morristown,  sun-dial  at,  359,  374. 
Morris,  William,  quoted,  240,  425. 
Morse,  S.  B.  F.,  lines  on  sun-dial  motto, 

363- 

Mosquitoes,  74. 
Moss  Roses,  345,  465,  466. 


Mottoes  on  sun-dials,  88,  360,  et  seq. 
Mountain  Fringe.    See  Adlumia. 
Mount  Atlas  Cedar,  29. 
Mount  Auburn  Cemetery,  sun-dial  at, 

373- 

Mount  Vernon,  garden  at,  11-12;  sun- 
dial at,  369. 

Mourning  Bride,  297,  339  et  seq. 

Mulberries,  27. 

Mullein  Pink,  174. 

Musk  Roses,  464,  469. 

Names,  old  English,  284  et  seq. 
Naked  Boys,  455. 
Napanock,  garden  at,  69-70. 
Naushon,  Gorse  on,  222;  sun-dial  at, 

374- 

Nemophila,  315. 

New  Amsterdam,  flowers  of,  17-18. 
New  England's  Prospect,  3. 
New  England's  Rarities,  5. 
Nicotiana,  423. 
Nigella,  33,  434,  435. 
Night-scented  Stock,  421-422. 
Nightshade,  448. 
Night  Violets,  422. 
Noon-marks,  355. 
None-so-pretty,  135. 

Oak  of  Jerusalem,     See  Ambrosia. 
Obesity,  cure  for,  122. 
Old  Man.     See  Southernwood. 
Oleanders,  52,  329-330. 
Olitory,  113. 
Open  knots,  57-58. 
Ophir  Farm,  sun-dial  at,  376  et  seq. 
Opyn-tide,  meaning  of,  143. 
Orange  Lily,  50. 
Orchard  seats,  192. 
Orpine,  444-445. 
Orris-root,  259. 
Osage  Orange,  69,  406. 
Ostrowskia,  262. 
"  Out-Landish  Flowers,"  58. 
Oxeye  Daisies,  introduction  to  Amer- 
ica, 25. 
Oxford,  sun-dial  at,  97. 


486 


Index 


Pansies,  134,  318. 

Pappoose-root,  293. 

Parkman,   Francis,   Rose  Garden    of, 

471. 

Parley,  Peter,  quoted,  343. 
Parsons,  T.  W.,  on  Lilacs,  153. 
Parterre,  58  et  seq. 
Pastorius,  Father,  n. 
Patagonian  Mint,  347-348. 
Patience,  6. 
Paulownias,  29. 
Peach  blossoms,  158. 
Peacocks,  395  et  seq. 
Pear  blossoms,  scent  of,  318. 
Pedestals  for  sun-dials,  374  et  seq, 
Pennsylvania,  sun-dials  in,  370  et  seq. 
Penn,  William,  encouraged  gardens,  ii. 
Peony,  42  et  seq. 
Peppermint,  as  medicine,  118. 
Pergolas,  82-83,  38S  et  seq. 
Peristyle,  389. 
Periwinkle,  62,  439  et  seq. 
Perpetual  Roses,  468. 
Persians,  colors  of,  253;  plant  names 

of,  292 ;  flower  love  of,  462. 
Persian  Lilac,  152. 
Persian  Yellow  Rose,  320,  469. 
Peter's  Wreath,  41-42. 
Petunias,  179,  423. 
Phlox,  40,  45,  162,  423. 
Piazzas,  388-389. 
Pig-nuts,  332. 
Pilgrim's  Progress,  quotations  from, 

201. 

Pinckney,  E.  L.,  floriculture  by,  14. 
Pine  at  Yaddo,  90. 
Pink-of-my-Joan,  135. 
Pinks,  as  edgings,  34,  47,  61,  292,  422- 

423- 

Pippins,  345. 

Plane  trees  in  Pliny's  garden,  97. 
Plantain,  197,  443-444. 
Plant-of-twenty-days,  42. 
Platycodon  gra.ndifl.orum,  262. 
Playhouse  Apple  tree,  199. 
Pliny,   quoted,  342,   349;   gardens  of, 

96-97. 


Plum  blossoms,  157-158. 

Plume  Poppy,  175  et  seq. 

Plymouth,  Massachusetts,  early  gar- 
dens at,  3. 

Poet's  Narcissus,  318. 

Pogonia,  247. 

Poison  Ivy,  403. 

Polling,  of  trees,  387. 

Polyantha  Rose,  467. 

Polyanthus,  as  edging,  62. 

Pomander,  212. 

Pomatum,  209-210. 

Pompeii,  standards  at,  87  et  seq. 

Pond  Lily,  345. 

Pony  Roses,  467. 

Poppies,  163-164,  243-244,  309  et  seq., 
43'- 

Pops,  337. 

Portable  dials,  356-357. 

Portulaca,  178-179. 

Potatoes,  planted  by  Raleigh,  230. 

Potocka,  Countess,  quoted,  327. 

Pot-pourri,  471. 

Preston  Garden,  15-16,  18,  24,  101. 

Prick-song  plant.     See  Lunaria. 

Primprint.     See  Privet. 

Prince  Nurseries,  26  et  seq.,  230. 

Privet,  54,  317,  406,  408. 

Provence  Roses,  459. 

Prunella,  264-265. 

Prygmen,  99. 

Pudding,  304. 

Pulmonaria,  437-438. 

Pumps,  old,  67-68. 

Pussy  Willows,  155,  247. 

Puzzle-love,  435. 

Pyrethrum,  242. 

Quabbin,  419. 

Queen  Anne,  hatred  of  Box,  94. 
Queen's  Maries,  bower  of,  103. 
Queen  of  the  Prairies  Rose,  468 
Quincy,  Josiah,  407. 

Ragged  Robin,  291. 
Ragged  Sailors,  265. 
Rail  fences,  399  et  seq. 


Index 


487 


Railings,  62. 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  garden  of,  230. 

Rapin,  Rene,  quoted,  94,  323 ;  on  gar- 
dens, 227. 

Red,  influence  of,  251. 

Remontant  Roses,  468. 

Rent,  of  a  Rose,  469  et  seq. 

Rescue  of  an  Old  Place,  cited,  103,  290. 

Rhodes,  Cecil,  garden  of,  261. 

Rhododendrons,  42,  182,  244,  245. 

Ridgely  Garden,  57,  60,  95,  101. 

Ring  dials,  356. 

Rock  Cress.     See  Arabis. 

Rocket.    See  Dames'  Rocket. 

Rose  Acacia,  185,  406. 

Rose  Campion,  33,  174,  175. 

Rose  Garden,  at  Yaddo,  81  et  seq, 

Rosemary,  5,  55,  59,  no. 

Rose  of  Four  Seasons,  467. 

Rose  of  Plymouth,  295. 

Rose  Tavern,  470. 

Rose  tobacco,  475. 

Rose-water,  472. 

Rossetti,  D.  G.,  picture  by,  380 ;  quoted, 
380. 

Roxbury  Waxwork.    See  Bittersweet. 

Rue,  5,  no,  123  et  seq,  434. 

Ruskin,  John,  quoted,  243,  283,  255, 
279.  309- 

Sabbatia,  295. 

Saffron-tea,  118. 

Sage,  125  et  seq. 

Sag  Harbor,  sun-dial  at,  362. 

Salpiglossis,  262. 

Salt  Box  House,  128. 

Sand,  in  parterres,  56,  58. 

Santolina.     See  Lavender  Cotton. 

Sapson  Apples,  201-202. 

Sassafras,  343. 

Satin-flower,  170  et  seq. 

Sauce  Saracen,  472. 

Scarlet  Lightning,  443. 

Scilla,  255. 

Scotch  Roses,  48,  464,  469. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  sun-dial  of,  219,  377. 

Scythes,  391. 


Seeds,  sale  of,  32  et  seq. 

Serpentine  Walls,  414. 

Setwall.     See  Valerian. 

Seven  Sisters,  435. 

Seven  Sisters  Rose,  463. 

Shade  alleys,  59. 

Shaded  Walks,  64. 

Shakespeare  Border,  217  et  seq. 

Sheep  bones,  as  edgings,  57-58. 

Shelley,  Garden,  223. 

Shell  flower,  436-437. 

Shirley  Poppies,  255,  312. 

Simples,  115. 

Skepes,  354,  391  et  seq. 

Slugs,  in  Box,  95. 

Smithsonian  Institution,  sun-dials  in, 

357-358. 

Snakeroot,  423-424. 
Snapdragons,  33,  175. 
Snowballs,  71. 
Snowberry,  169. 
Snowdrops,  234. 
Snow  in  Summer,  47. 
Snow  Pink.    See  Pinks. 
Soldier  and  his  Wife,  438. 
Sops-o'-wine.     See  Sapson. 
Sorrel,  6,  240,  332. 
South  Carolina,  gardens  of,  14. 
Southernwood,  5,  341,  348  et  seq. 
Southey,  Robert,  quoted,  266. 
Spenser,  Edmund,  quoted,  54 ;  flowers 

of,  215,  284. 

Spider-flower.     See  Love-in-a-mist. 
Spiders  in  medicine,  303,  343. 
Spiderwort,  435-436. 
Spiraeas,  189. 

Spitfire  Plant.    See  Fraxinella. 
Spring  Beauty,  294. 
Spring  Snowflake,  234,  235. 
Spruce  gum,  332. 
Spurge.  Cypress,  434  et  seq. 
Squirrel  Cups,  260. 
Squirt,  for  water,  390. 
Star  of  Bethlehem,  34,  235. 
Star  Pink.    See  Pink. 
Statues  in  garden,  85,  389. 
Stockton,  Richard,  letter  of,  30-31. 


488 


Index 


Stones,  for  edging,  58. 

Stonecrop,  135. 

Stone  walls,  399  et  seq. 

Strawberry  Bush.    See  Calycanthus. 

Striped  Grass,  438-439. 

Striped  Lily,  61. 

Stuyvesant,  Peter,  garden  of.  18-19. 

Succory.    See  Chicory. 

Summer-houses,  392. 

Summer  Roses,  468. 

Summer  savory,  124. 

Summer-sots,  17. 

Sun-dials  of  Box,  62,  80,  87,  88,  97  et 

seq. 

Sun-flowers,  178,  287. 
Sunken  gardens,  72-73. 
Sunshine  Bush,  189. 
Swan  River  Daisy,  263,  264. 
Sweet  Alyssum.     See  Alyssum. 
Sweet     Brier,    6,    25,    48,    302,    464, 

465- 

Sweet  Fern,  2. 
Sweet  Flag,  343. 
Sweet  Johns,  285. 
Sweet  Marjoram,  124. 
Sweet  Peas,  33,  178,  224. 
Sweet  Rocket,  34. 
Sweet  Shrub.    See  Calycanthus. 
Sweet  Williams,  34,  162,  285  et  seq. 
Sylvester   Manor,  gardens  at,   104   et 

'seq. 
Syringas,  71. 

Tansy,  6,  \<2&etseq. 

Tansy  bitters,  128. 

Tansy  cakes,  128. 

Tasmania,  Thistles  in,  26. 

Tea  Roses,  320,  469. 

Telling  the  bees,  393. 

Temperance  Reform,  204. 

Tennyson,  on   blue,    266;    on    white, 

420-421. 

Thaxter,  Celia,  cited,  311. 
Thistles,  in  Tasmania,  26. 
Thomas,  Edith,  quoted,  229. 
Thoreau,  H.  D.,  quoted,  148,  197,  198, 

199.  275,  276,  345,  346,  417. 


Thoroughwort,  145  et  seq. 

Thrift,  sun-dials  in,  97 ;  as  edging,  61- 

62. 

Thyme,  34,  60,  302  et  seq. 
Tiger  Lilies,  45,  162. 
Toad-flax,  450  et  seq. 
Tobacco.     See  Nicotiana. 
Tongue-plant,  347-348. 
Topiary  work    in   England,  408;     at 

Wellesley,  409  et  seq.  ;  in  California, 

412. 

Tradescantia.     See  Spiderwort. 
Trailing  Arbutus,  299. 
Traveller's  Rest,  sun-dial  at,  350,  370. 
Tree  arbors,  199,  384-385. 
Tree  Peony.     See  Peony. 
Trillium,  154,  457,  458. 
Trumpet  vine,  449-450. 
Tuckahoe,  Box  at,  102,  105. 
Tudor  gardens,  55. 
Tudor  Place,  garden  at,  103. 
Tulips,  18,  138,  168. 
Turner,  cited,  61,  236. 
Tusser,  Thomas,  quoted,  115. 
Twopenny  Grass,  61. 

Valerian,  34,  313  et  seq. 

Van  Cortlandt  Manor,  garden  at,  20  et 
seq. 

Van  Cortlandt,  Pierre,  21. 

Vancouver's  Island,  26. 

Van  der  Donck,  Adrian,  quoted,  17-18. 

Velvet  Roses,  466. 

Vendue,  50-51. 

Venus'  Navelwort,  33,  441-442. 

Versailles,  Box  at,  97. 

Victoria  Regia,  74-75. 

Vinca.     See  Periwinkle. 

Viola  tricolor,  134. 

Violets,  edgings  of,  71 ;  in  backyard, 
154;  gallant  grace  of,  166 ;  scent  of, 
259.  3I7-3I8. 

Viper's  Bugloss,  273-274. 

Virginia  Allspice.     See  Calycanthus. 

Virginia,  sun-dials  in,  369-370;  Rose- 
bowers  in,  385;  lyres  in,  385. 

Virgin's  Bower.     See  Adlumia. 


Index 


489 


Wake  Robin.    See  Trillium. 

Walden  Pond,  198,  345. 

Walpole,  New  Hampshire,  garden  in, 
237  et  seq.,  464  et  seq. 

Walton,  Izaak,  127. 

Wandis,  62. 

Warwick,  Lady,  sun-dial  of,  98 ;  gar- 
dens of,  84,  85,  no;  Shakespeare 
Border  of,  217. 

Washings,  semi-annual,  99. 

Washington,  Betty,  sun-dial  of,  370. 

Washington  Family,  in  England,  367 ; 
sun-dial  of,  367  et  seq. 

Washington,  George,  sun-dials  of,  357, 
368. 

Washington,  Martha,  garden  of,  12- 
13- 

Washington,  Mary,  sun-dial  of,  369; 
garden  of,  370. 

Wassailing,  206. 

Waterbury,  Connecticut,  sun-dial  at, 
379- 

Waterford,  Virginia,  bee-hives  at,  393. 

Water  gardens,  73-74. 

Watering-pot,  391. 

Watson,  Forbes,  cited,  425,  433. 

Waybred,  443-444. 

Weed-smother,  300. 

Weeds  of  old  garden,  8,  48,  52. 

Wellesley,  gardens  at,  409  et  seq. 


Well-sweeps,  68, 390. 

White  animals  on  tarm,  416  et  seq. 

White  Garden,  415  et  seq. 

Whitehall,  home  of  Bishop  Berkeley, 

194,  195. 

White  Man's  Foot,  443-444. 
White  Satin,  170  et  seq. 
White,  value  in  garden,  157,  255,  419. 
Whiteweed,  291.     See  Oxeye  Daisy. 
Whitman,  Walt,  quoted,  152-153. 
Whittier,   J.    G.,   sun-dial    motto    by, 

373-374- 

Wild  gardens,  237  et  seq.,  453-454. 
Wine-sap.     See  Sapson. 
Winter,  in  a  garden,  327  et  seq. 
Winter  posy,  131. 
Winthrop,  John,  quoted,  i,  3. 
Wistaria,  166,  182,  188  et  seq..  232. 
Woad-waxen,  24,  25. 
Wordsworth,  W.,  quoted,  193. 
Wort,  113. 
Wort-cunning,  113. 

Yaddo,  garden  at,  81  et  seq. 

Yew,  406. 

York    and    Lancaster    Rose,    62,   460 

et  seq. 
Yucca,  293,  429-430. 

Zodiac,  signs  of,  on  sun-dial,  376. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


SB 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


>8(H9242s8 19482 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000557460     3 


